Finding Wendy
by Ducky27
Summary: Peter makes the ultimate sacrifice for Wendy, and grows up. The only problem is, he's 100 years too late! With the help of a young girl nammed Alix, he sets out to find out what happened to his love. Will eventually be PeterWendy
1. Decisions

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me.

A.N. VERY IMPORTANT Ok, here's the deal. This is a blatant self-insertion fic. I won't even bother changing my name. But I'm not vain enough to attempt a Me/Peter romance fic. Or at least not vain enough to post it... But as it is self-insertion, I haven't inflicted it upon my beta, so prepare for spelling and grammar mistakes. It will be Peter/Wendy eventually. Don't ask me how yet, as I only have a vague idea at the moment.

ASLO VERY IMPORTANT: This would be the backdrop of the story. It is needed. So, here's what happened. The movie. It happened. And was therefore never made. Wendy, when she was much older met a man named J.M.Barrie, and she told him the story of Peter Pan. J.M.Barrie then rewrote it and published it in more acceptable form. So the book by J.M.Barrie exists, but the 2003 movie doesn't. That's pretty much it.

III

Wendy sat by the window of her new bedroom. It was on the same side of the house as the Nursery, so if Peter came looking for her, he wouldn't have to look far.

The night sky was littered with stars, and as it was nearing summer she was blessed with a cloudless sky. If he were to come tonight while she sat here, she would see him coming a long way off. Not that she particularly thought he was going to come. But, for just half an hour every night, she would sit and wait, just out of respect for what they had shared.

The window for her room was not like that of the nursery. It was much smaller, and did not open all the way so that you could walk through. But it would be easy for a boy who could fly.

"Goodnight Peter." She whispered, finally standing up and walking towards her bed.

"Goodnight? Surely a girl all so grown up doesn't have to go to bed?" Came a voice from the window, and Wendy gasped in surprise. But she was determined to stay calm, and turned around slowly to see the boy who hovered at her window.

"Part of being grown up," She told him, suppressing the smile that tugged at her lips, "Is knowing when to go to bed yourself, without being told."

"But that's so boring!" Peter Pan, the most amazing boy to have ever lived, crowed. Wendy could suppress her happiness no more, and burst into laughter.

"Oh, it is Peter, but it's worth it!" She told him, her smile stretching across her face. She ran across the room to stand near him, and he landed on the floor to greet her, but to both their dismay they found that she was now taller than he.

"How is it worth it?" He asked sadly, looking up at her. It pained her to see how young he was.

"My parents, they treat me much better now." She explained, "They take me out to parties with them, which is so wonderful, you can't even imagine,"

"I don't want to." He said stubbornly, "We'd have had much better parties in Neverland, if you'd told me that's what you wanted."

"But that's not what I wanted." She told him, "I wanted to grow up. I wanted you to grow up with me."

"If I stayed here to grow up, I'd soon be much taller than you again, boys are bigger than girls." He said confidently. Wendy being taller than him bothered him; "I think that is a wonderful idea, don't you? I'll stay here and grow up with you."

"No you won't." Wendy said quietly, "You'll say you will, and maybe even mean it, but you'll grow bored and leave me again."

"If I say I will then I will." He insisted, but Wendy shook her head.

"The world of grownups is not one you could live in." She assured him, "And I realise now that it was cruel to ask you to. You are now and forever a little boy. And I am no longer a little girl. I've missed you Peter, but I'm glad you chose to stay in Neverland."

"There is another, isn't there?" And now Peter looked angry, "You've already replaced me, and you want me to leave so that I wont find out."

"No one will ever replace you Peter." Wendy told him, but with little conviction for she knew Peter would not believe her, even though she spoke the truth. He wanted to believe that there was another, because that meant it wasn't his fault, "I just know that you will never grow up."

"You don't know anything." And with that he left. Anger made his flight fast and careless, and the fast flying blurred his thoughts, making him unsure as to what he was angry about. He arrived in Neverland, and instantly sought out Tink, the only friend he had left. And he and Tink played in the moonlight, and as he does, he soon forgot all about his fight with Wendy.

III

Time had passed, and Peter had gathered more Lost Boys, who gave him many adventures, but there was one boy who did not seem to enjoy them very much.

"Sparks, why aren't you playing with the others?" Peter asked one day after watching the boy sit and watch the others.

"Dunno Peter." He shrugged, pulling at his clothes.

"I'm sure you can't think of a single thing more fun than joining in." Peter assured him, but Sparks just shrugged again, and shook his head, "Can you? Then tell me."

"I remember something from before I came here." Sparks said slowly, for he was quite a slow boy, "A woman, she used to...she used to tell me stories."

"Stories..." A grin slid across Peter's face, and his eyes danced, "Oh, I can find you stories."

Peter had forgotten that he and Wendy had fought; he had forgotten a lot of things about Wendy. But he remembered that she told stories, and he remembered enjoying them.

So away he flew from Neverland, and into the streets of London. If he had been more observant, or had a better memory, he may have noticed that London looked differently then it had last time he visited. But he didn't, and so it made no difference to him.

The house looked different. He had been sure that it had been made out of the same brown brick that the other houses on the road had been made out of, but now it was white, and the moonlight reflected off it. He flew to the nursery window, but then remembered that Wendy had changed room, so flew up to the next window, and peered through the window.

The window was different as well, but again Peter didn't really notice. To him life was like a story. Sometimes the details changed, but it was still the same story. The house looked different, but it was still the same house. So, as he looked through the window, which was rimmed with white plastic, the only thing he observed was that light purple curtains got in the way of his vision.

"Tink." He called, and his fairy friend, looking quite annoyed, bobbed up beside him, "Tink, can you open the window and move the curtains?"

Tink, who still disliked Wendy greatly, obeyed, simply because she could not bear to say no to Peter. So she opened the Window with the strange lock, and pulled aside the light purple curtains. Peter, his eyes growing large, peered inside, and spied a sleeping figure in a small bed. And then he remembered.

"_I wanted you to grow up with me."_

"_I'll stay here and grow up with you."_

"You'll say you will, and maybe even mean it, but you'll grow bored and leave me again."

The cruelty of those words...

"I know that you will never grow up."

"I will grow up." Peter whispered, looking at the sleeping figure in the bed. The bed, which he did not notice, that was nothing like the one Wendy used to sleep him.

He had forgotten all about his promise to the little Lost Boy to bring him stories. He forgot all about all the Lost Boys. All he knew was Wendy, and in his heart the undeniable urge to prove her wrong, and to grow up with her.

But she wouldn't believe him. She'd just get angry again, which she always did.

"I'll prove it to her." He whispered, "I'll grow up, just a little bit, and then come back and show her. Then she can't be angry."

Tinkerbell chattered angrily into his ears, trying to change his mind, but Peter was stubborn, and he liked the idea of proving Wendy wrong, and seeing her smile when she realised that he had grown up.

"Come on Tink, stay here with me." He whispered, "If you don't, I might forget how to fly."

And Tink couldn't bear this thought, so she agreed, even though she knew that it was a very bad idea.

It might have been a disastrous idea, and one that would have ended in much misery if Peter had decided to do this years before. For it was his imagination alone that had kept Neverland alive. But now Neverland lived in the hearts of so many children that it no longer needed Peter to survive. And some part of Peter knew this, which is why he was able to make the decision that would change his life.

III


	2. Home

A.N.: You made it to chapter two? Wow, I didn't think anyone would. You get a cookie.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

III

Susan Rush sat in her office, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette. She knew she should quit, as it was giving the wrong impression to the children, but dealing with them was stressful, and she needed something to calm her down.

There was a knock on the door, and she called for whoever it was to come in. It turned out to be the man from the shop down the road.

"Hey Susie." He said, looking nervous. He always did look nervous; his eyes had a tendency to shift from one side to the other, like he was looking for an escape.

"Hi...Archie?" She hoped she had got his name right. She'd been going to his off-license for the last ten years, so she should know it. Nothing he did made her think she'd got it wrong, so she continued, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Um, I think one of your kids have got out." He told her, "There's a boy hanging around outside my shop, and he's wearing...foliage."

"Sounds like one of mine." Actually, it sounded like several of hers. Some of the younger boys in the home liked to dress up, and when dressing up clothes grew scarce, they were good and compensating.

She grabbed her coat, and followed Archie to the corner shop. She could see the leave clad figure from a while away, but the closer she got, the older he looked, and the less sure she was that it was one of hers.

"He doesn't live in our Home." She told Archie as they finally came to his shop. The boy, who looked about thirteen, wore a very well made suit of leaves, and his dirty blond hair gathered in loose curls at the top of his head. He was barefooted, and Susan was surprised to see he had a knife at his waist. He was peering inside the shop with a look of astonishment on his face.

"Hey you, kid!" She called out, but he ignored her, "Kid! With the leaves!"

Finally he turned to look at her, and she saw his wide blue eyes had fear in them, as well as surprise.

"Kid, what are you doing out here at this time of night?" She asked, "Aren't your parents going to be looking for you?"

"I don't have any parents." He told her. He sounded American, and this alone worried Susan. That on top of his comment that he was parentless caused cause for alarm.

"Where do you live?" She asked, and he looked around shiftily before shrugging, "Hum, ok. Look Archie, I'm going to take him back to the home and see if I can find out where he comes from. Thanks for telling me about him. Hey Kid, what's your name?"

"Peter." He told her, straightening up, "Pan."

She stopped for a moment before bursting out laughing, "Sure you are...Peter. Well, why don't you come with me? You must be freezing. I'm Susan."

III

Peter followed Susan down the road to the 'Home' as she called it. Peter, naturally distrustful of adults, had decided not to tell her where he had come from, just in case she tried to send him back. He was a little annoyed that she had laughed at his name, but she seemed nice apart from that. She reminded him a little of Wendy's mother.

She took him inside a building that had those same magical bright lights that hurt his eyes. But Peter was used the strange things. He remembered how bizarre Wendy's house had looked when he had first visited it, and even stranger when he had visited it just now. He found it was best to ignore what he couldn't understand.

"Sit down here." Susan showed him a chair beside a table, and then took the seat on the other side of it. There was a big box on top of a little one, and she was pressing buttons on it. He couldn't see what was happening, but she looked like she was concentrating, "So Peter, where do you come from?"

"Don't know." He said unhelpfully. He would not be sent back to Neverland.

"Well, where do your parents live?" She tried, and then remembered it time, "I know, I know, you don't have parents. Have you ever?"

"I did when I was younger." He admitted, craning to look at what she was doing. The box was humming, and when he had craned his neck far enough he could see that on one side of the box lots of pictures where moving. It looked like a lot of writing, and he instantly leapt up to take a better look.

"Peter, sit down!" Susan almost shrieked. The boy had leapt across the table to look at her computer, and was now standing beside her. Well, he must have leapt, although it looked more like he had flew. But that was just silly. Peter, who looked angry with himself, walked back to his seat and sat down, "Ok...Uh...Where was I...? Oh yeah, so where did your parents live when you were younger?"

"I'm not sure...near Kensington Gardens, I think." He told her. He liked Susan; she was nice and looked nice too. She wasn't too grown up, but just a little too grown up. And she smelt funny, which was something Peter was used to, living with a load of boys who didn't wash.

"Ok, Kensington Gardens..." She was pressing buttons on a flat thing on her table, and frowning, "Peter, what's your real name?"

"Peter is my real name." He told her.

"I mean, what's your second name?" She asked, frowning at him.

"Pan." He told her. He supposed she had forgotten.

"Peter, be serious." She scorned, which just confused him. Why was she getting angry?

"I dislike being serious." He told her, "It is too grown up. But my name really is Peter Pan."

"Ok, ok." The anger was gone from her face, and she was smiling, "I suppose, Peter Pan, that you've been spending all this time in Never-Neverland?"

Peter stood up quickly, fear in his eyes, and his hand went to his knife, which it always did when he was upset, "No, of course not!" he said, backing away.

"Peter, calm down!" She called out, looking worried, "I was only joking. Don't worry. Look, I suppose you're tired, you can stay here for the night, and we'll sort out everything tomorrow, ok?"

Peter was tired. He had been wandering around London for a good deal of the night, trying to find out how to grow up. Perhaps he could stay here with Susan, just until he was old enough to prove to Wendy that he was right.

"Ok." He agreed, and she opened a door to the side of her office. There she took him up a set of stairs and into the bedroom for new comers. Peter, not taking off any of his clothes climbed right into the bed, and then turned to grin at Susan, "This bed is very comfortable."

"Um, that's good." She said, a little taken aback, "Well, you get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Should I turn off the light?"

"Sure." Peter nodded, lying down. So Susan turned off the light and closed the door to his room, shaking her head. She walked back down to her office, where she continued to look on the Internet for a missing child report from around Kensington Gardens. Then she remembered that that's where the Peter Pan from the stories had run away to, and gave it up as a red hearing. So instead she phoned the police and alerted them, but they said that no missing boys had been reported around her area. They told her that they'd look into it, and make a visit in the morning to see the boy, but there wasn't much else they could do.

He was strange, that was for sure. He wore that outfit, which she supposed reminded her vaguely of Peter Pan, so naturally, and they way he talked! Of course, his American accent made her think he wasn't from around here at all, but then how did he get here? And they way he had so trustingly followed her back to her house! If some psycho had found him, Susan imagined that Peter would have followed them just as trustingly.

"Who are you Peter?" She whispered to her computer screen, half wishing for the answer to pop up in front of her. But nothing came, so she turned it off and went to bed.

III

Peter had lay in the darkness quietly for a little while, before getting out of the bed and creeping over to the window. He opened it quietly, and whispered into the night.

"Tink? Tinkerbell? You can come in if you want." He called, and a little flutter of light appeared in front of him, "Ah, there you are Tink. I found myself a place to stay. Oh the cleverness of me."

But Tinkerbell wasn't happy. She stomped her foot and pulled faces, until Peter was forced to try and console her.

"Don't worry Tink, I have a plan." He told her, "I'll only stay here until I'm a little bit grown up, and then I'll go and find Wendy. She'll be grown up too, and then we can go back to Neverland, and stay slightly grown up forever. I won't grow old Tinkerbell."

But Tinkerbell could not be consoled. In her little fairy mind she had decided that Peter cared more for Wendy then he did her, and had chosen Wendy. She told him this, and he couldn't convince her otherwise.

"Please don't leave Tink, I'll forget my plan if you do, and then I'll never get back to Neverland." So Tinkerbell, still very upset, agreed to stay, and Peter grinned a self satisfied grin. He closed the window, and climbed back into the bed, which was very comfortable, and fell asleep.

III

Peter did not know this, but he had stumbled across a home for abandoned and orphaned children, and Susan was one of the carers. The home was called Summers Children's Home, after the founder, Fred Summers. There was a statue of his head outside the house, which the children loved to muck around with. Yes, unknown to Peter, twenty other children were asleep in the house. The oldest was a seventeen-year-old boy called Nathaniel, and the youngest was a three-year-old girl called Abby.

The children of Summers house thought of themselves as quite wild. They often snuck out, and played tricks on the carers. They weren't, in general, particularly bad kids (although some of them where), but they had their moments. But none of them had ever met Peter, and when they did...

Well, Summers Children's Home was about to change.

III

When Peter woke, he found some clothes laid out on a chair for him. They looked a bit like the clothes he had seen John and Michael wear when they had played in the nursery, but also quite different. And poor Peter was not exactly sure as to how he was supposed to put them on, so he ignored them.

"Tinkerbell, I don't think adults believe in fairies." He said to his small companion, "So you should stay out of sight. You can stay in here, or you can explore outside. I'll need to know my way around."

Tinkerbell agreed that she would explore the surrounding area, and report back to him, and flew out of the window. Peter left the bedroom, and then found himself in a house where he had no idea where anything was. On the corridor where his room was there were four other doors, and Peter decided to look in all of them.

The first one was another bedroom, with four beds in it. It was pink, and had many toys scattered around it, and Peter decided it was a room for girls. The next door revealed another children's room, but this one was obviously a boys. It had five beds, and smelt like the Lost Boys.

The next room was very while and shiny and cold. It was a bathroom, but Peter had never seen one so he did not know this.

The final room was another bedroom, but this one had only one, large bed, and looked like it belonged to an adult. He shut the door, and turned to look at a set of stairs that led even higher into the house, but suddenly caught the smell of food. It was coming from downstairs, and he followed it. Directly opposite the bottom of the stairs was the door that led to the room he and Susan had sat in, but to the side there were more rooms. The first one he opened was another adult bedroom, and the next was another shiny cold room, but the final door revealed a very large room where the smell of food was coming from. And lots of noise. Noise that disappeared as soon as he walked in.

"Oh Peter!" It was Susan, and she was looking at him in surprise. She was stood by a very large table, which was surrounded by children, all looking at him. Some looked quite a bit older than him, "You didn't change into those clothes I left you..."

"They weren't mine." He explained, looking at all the children. They were sniggering, and Peter felt himself blush, and felt annoyed.

"I thought they might be more comfortable then...what you're wearing." She said, and then frowned at all the laughing children, "I don't know what you're giggling about Sam Deeley, I've only just convinced you to wear clothes around the house."

A boy who looked about five and reminded Peter of Michael blushed and looked away.

"Should I go up and change?" Peter asked, glaring at the children who still stared.

"If you like, yeah." Susan nodded, "You can have breakfast when you come back down. Some people will be here in a while to talk to you."

Peter left the room, and heard them all start to talk about him as he left. But he wasn't interested in what they had to say. He'd win them all over soon enough. He always ruled over boys, and he had charmed Wendy quickly, hadn't he?

Up in his room he started on the problem of the clothes. The top was easy enough, although the sleeves were a little bit tricky, and the trousers were easily put on once he realised that it would be easier if he sat down for the first bit. The buttons were a little bit tricky on the trousers, but he soon managed them. He took a guess with the socks and got lucky, although her wore one of them inside out. He took one look at the shoes and decided it probably wasn't worth the hassle.

He stood in front on the full-length mirror in the room. He wore a pear of loose jeans (although to him they were just dark blue trousers), and a baggy plain red t-shirt. He looked like any teenage boy his age, although maybe a fair bit grubbier. Then again, maybe not...

He walked back into the big room with the children and the food, and this time Susan smiled when she saw him.

"Yeah, that's much better." She indicted to a chair, "Do you want to join us?"

Peter sat at the table, and Susan handed him a plate, which he just looked at. Susan frowned slightly, and then just shook her head.

"Ok everyone, this is Peter, he came last night. He might be staying for a while, we don't know yet." She indicated to Peter, then started pointing around the table, "Ok Peter, you probably won't be able to remember this all right now but I'll try introducing you. Ok, that's Holly, she's just turned seventeen, and that's Finn, he's twelve. No? Sorry, he's thirteen. Lisa, Lisa, you're eight now, aren't you? Yeah, that's right."

And so it continued. Maggie was four, no five? No, four. Sam, cheeky little devil, he's five. That's Justin, he's fourteen. Karla's twelve, and so is Jolie. Peter's head spun with it. Abbey's three, Asher and Dylan are seven. Brian and Poppy, so grown up, they're ten! Leah's fifteen, and so is Tom. Peter didn't care how old they all where, but Susan insisted on telling him, and the numbers rang in his head. Ricky's nine; Shem's thirteen, same as Naomi. Conner's sixteen, and Nathaniel's seventeen. And she was done. If Peter had been asked to recite just one of their names and ages, he would have failed. And then came the question he had been dreading.

"Peter, how old are you?" Susan asked.

"Quite young." He told her, looking around shiftily. His stomach growled loudly, and he grinned, "And quite hungry."

"Oh yeah, of course." She grinned sheepishly and began putting food on his plate, "How old are you exactly?"

"I'm not sure." Which was, of course, how Peter Pan had replied in the book. Susan had stayed up all night reading it in the hopes that it would reveal something about the boy. It hadn't.

"You don't know how old you are?" One of the girls asked. Perhaps Karla.

"I know that I am young." He told her, starting on the food on his plate. It was toast and sausages, and he ate them with his fingers, ignoring the knife and fork, "I have been for a while. But I'm now ready to grow up."

"Ok." The girl nodded, then looked away. At the other end of the table the oldest boy...Nathaniel?...laughed and smiled at Peter.

"You don't look too young to me." He told him, "Does he Susan?"

"You leave him alone." Susan warned, but only half-heartedly. Nathaniel teased all the younger children, but never meanly, "Peter, some men want to talk to you, they'll be here in about half an hour, so finish up your breakfast and aren't those sausages burning your fingers?"

Peter, who was holding a scolding hot sausage, just shrugged and took a bite, "They're very good." He told her.

"Asbestos fingers?" One of the older girls suggested, poking her sausage and then pulling her finger away quickly, "Ouch!"

"Who are the men who want to talk to me?" Peter asked, finishing his sausage.

"Um, just some men who are trying to work out where you come from." She admitted.

"I don't come from anywhere." He told her, grinning. Some of the children laughed, and most of them found themselves warming to this strange boy, especially the younger ones.

"Well, they'll want to talk to you anyway." Susan told him, "You don't have a toothbrush, do you? I think Laura bought some new ones the other day so you can have one of those."

He finished his breakfast and followed Susan up into the second floor.

"I'm just going to pop into Laura's room for a moment, she works here with me. Her husband's granddad started this place. Just give me a sec." She disappeared into the adults bedroom and then came out a moment later carrying a green stick with white hairs on them, "This can be your toothbrush, it hasn't been used so don't worry about that. There's the bathroom, you can just brush your teeth and have a quick wash. The men will be here soon."

It didn't occur to her that Peter had no idea what a toothbrush was, why would it have? So Peter entered the big white room with a look of fear in his eyes. He held the toothbrush away from him, and looked at it.

"Tooth Brush." He said, "To brush teeth? Why?"

But he had been given an order, so he did the best that he could. He didn't actually do too bad a job considering that he didn't use water or toothpaste. Of course, he had never brushed his teeth before in his life, but that hadn't mattered in Neverland, where there was no such thing as tooth decay.

Once finished he went back down stairs, and found Susan waiting for him.

"Go wait in my office Peter." She told him, and then looked him over, "Did you wash?"

"No." he said honestly.

"Oh well, there's no time now. They'll be here in a few minutes." She ushered him into the office where he sat down in the chair. True to her word, several minutes later Susan returned followed by several men in matching suits.

"Peter, I didn't want to scare you, but the men who have come to see you are policemen." She looked like she had confessed a terrible secret, but Peter just looked at her blankly.

"What are policemen?" he asked, and the adults looked at each other in astonishment.

"I suppose it doesn't matter." She mumbled, "Um, they want to ask you some questions, is that alright?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"Miss Rush, would you mind leaving to room?" One of the men asked, and Susan nodded and walked out, leaving a now nervous Peter on his own.

"Miss Rush says that you're calling yourself Peter Pan." One of the men said.

"Well, it is my name." He replied.

They continued for a long time, asking him question after question. Where do you live, where are you parents, what are their names, what is your name. They never believed him when he said it was Peter Pan.

"I don't like this." He said finally, "I liked it better when I was on my own. I came here to grow up and everyone is getting angry with me. Do you want me to go away again?"

The men finally did leave him alone, and stood outside with Susan for a long time, talking to her. Peter soon grew bored and longed for the company of Tinkerbell or the Lost Boys. Or Wendy. He would have loved for the company of Wendy.

Finally Susan returned, looking tired. She smiled at Peter as she walked into the room and sat down on the chair.

"They're going to send round a woman to be your Social Worker." She explained, "Do you know what a Social Worker is?" Peter shook his head, "She a woman who's going to talk to you and try and figure out what's going to happen to you. They say that if they can't find your family there's a good chance you'll stay here, with us. Would you like that?"

"I'd get to play with the children?" Peter asked, and Susan nodded, "Then I suppose I'd stay. I'm getting rather lonely."

"You're not going to tell us anything about you, are you?" She asked, "Is it that you don't know the answer to any of our questions? Or do you just not want to tell us?"

Peter just smiled. He was going to live in this house, with these children, and he would grow up, but not very quickly. And then, when he was a little grown, he would go and find Wendy, and the two of them would return to Neverland, and everything would be back to normal.

Oh the cleverness of him.

III


	3. A House Quite Different

Wow, a third chapter? Ok, here we go.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

III

Becky Matthews had never met a child quite like Peter in her life, and she had met a lot of bizarre children in her time. She was called in on 'special' cases, which meant that she had to handle the nut job kids.

But Peter wasn't crazy, at least not as far as she could tell. Ok, so insisting that he was Peter Pan wasn't making him seem too sane, but apart from that he seemed like a happy well-adjusted kid. Except he didn't exist.

There were no records of him anywhere. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't work out who the hell he was. It was almost worth considering that he was the real Peter Pan, if that wasn't impossible.

The theory was, so far, that he was the illegitimate son of someone famous, possibly royalty. It was possible that they had never registered his birth, and they hadn't reported him missing because he wasn't supposed to exist. Of course, this was all just guesswork, but that's all they had to go on.

When Becky had mentioned this to Peter he had just laughed and shook his head, saying that his parents were probably long dead, and he didn't care.

He was also; it turned out, completely uneducated. Well, that wasn't true. He seemed to be able to read simple writing, and do some simple adding and taking away, but that was it. He couldn't write, ar read anything much harder then the simplest children's books. He had no knowledge of history or geography or world events. His mathematics skills were almost non-existent, and he had no idea what science even was.

But the skills he had... He was a master swordsman, athletic, could build wonderful contraptions, and was extremely intelligent, despite being so un-educated. He also had no experience with technology at all.

He was an enigma. He could very well have been Peter Pan, if that wasn't impossible.

Becky sat opposite Susan, the woman who had found Peter, and tried to explain the main problem.

"Socially, he's at the stage of a two year old." She said carefully, "As far as I can tell, he's had people looking after him his whole life. He can't clean himself, he's never seen a toilette in his life, and I'm amazed that he was even able to dress himself. I'm really not sure if you or the other staff in the home can handle that. I'm sure he'll learn how to do all these things quickly, he's remarkably intelligent, but are any of you prepared to teach him? He's not a little boy, he seems to be about thirteen, and he's literally going to need someone to teach him to wipe his own...bottom...after he's been to the toilette."

"I see the problem." Susan nodded, "But I really think this is the best place for him. Look, the people who own the Home, Jack and Laura, they know how to handle kids like Peter, they get strange cases like this all the time. Jack will teach Peter everything he needs to know. They're on a training course just for this weekend, but they'll be back tomorrow. I've already phoned them, so they know what's going on."

"And it's just you, Laura and Jack?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Oh, no." Susan shook her head, "Normally there are five of us here. But Laura and Jack are away on the course, and the two other carers, Nick and Edith, are having the weekend off. The older kids help out with the younger ones you see, so we don't always need everybody on board. So it's just me this weekend."

"And you really think you can handle Peter?" The social worker looked sceptical.

"Yes, I do, and more importantly I think he'll be happy here."

"Well, here's what I suggest." Becky told her, "Peter should stay here, but attend weekly meetings at my centre. One day a week, so that I can find out more about him. And I'll visit here once weekly also, in order to see how things are going. He won't be able to attend school, but I think he has a lot of potential, education wise. I'll give you my report on him as soon as I've finished it. And as for this whole Peter Pan thing...I think we should leave him to it unless he starts claiming that he can fly. Maybe give him the book, and see if he claims that it's about him. If he doesn't, then we can just assume that he likes the name."

Susan nodded, and smiled, even though she didn't particularly like Becky. It was the way she talked about Peter, like he was somehow difficult. Susan could honestly say that she didn't think she had ever met a sweeter boy. But at least it seemed that Peter would be staying with them, for the time being, at least.

III

Becky had fascinated Peter. His only encounters with people other than the English were with the Indians in Neverland, and he had never seen a black person in his life. But Peter thought she was probably one of the nicest looking people he had ever seen, except, of course, Wendy, and decided that, as no one else seem to think her different, he shouldn't either.

And then there was the book Susan had given him. Well, actually she had just read it to him, as it was a little too difficult for him to read himself.

It was called Peter Pan, and was written by someone called J.M.Barrie. It was, he supposed, an almost accurate portrayal of his time with Wendy, but there were some major mistakes. It seemed to ignore the most important aspect of the story, his and Wendy's love. And that was just one of the mistakes. The ending was all wrong, but then, it had been written before his return. And it said that he was he was arrogant! But it was possible that someone had heard Wendy's story, and adapted it to his own...

When Susan had asked if the story was about him, he had denied it, for then she'd know that he lived in Neverland, and might send him back. But he had asked her how many other children had read it, and was not completely surprised by the answer.

"Oh, thousands I suppose, maybe even millions." She told him, "They even made a cartoon of it a few years ago, and even more kids will have seen that. And even people who haven't read the book or seen the movie know the story of Peter Pan and Wendy."

Millions. Millions of children believing, if only for a second, in a land where mermaids haunt the water, fairies roam the air and little children can fly on the power of happy thoughts. For years Neverland had only had Peter, one boy to fill it with life and stories. It would not let go of its live blood, it's heart, and it had bound the boy to its land. But now it had millions of children pouring life and belief into it, and the one boy it had once needed was obsolete. Worse than that, he was constricting. He would not allow Neverland to grow to accommodate all these new stories and dreams. He insisted on a small amount of lost boys, the Indians as his allies, and the pirates of his enemies.

Neverland did not need him anymore; it did not want him anymore. It had released its ties to him, and he had felt it. He had felt himself being thrown into exile. That is what had prompted him to think of Wendy, not that Lost Boy's want for stories. It was Neverland showing him the home he would always be welcomes to, and telling him to go. Peter thought that he was free of all children's greatest weakness, the inability to deny their parents, or anyone else's wishes. But when Neverland wanted him to leave, he had been unable to disobey.

"I thought I was making my own choice." He whispered to Tinkerbell in the dark, "I thought it was my choice to come here and grow up. But I was made to come here, I was thrown out of my home."

Tinkerbell bowed her head sadly, because she had felt it too, had felt the moment when Peter and Neverland had stopped being one, and the boy had become unconnected.

"Don't worry Tink, I've got it all planned out in my head." He reassured her, "Neverland doesn't want me because I don't have enough stories. I didn't let it grow. But I'm going to get a lot more stories here; I'm going to make Neverland call me back. Then Wendy and me can go back, and have so many wonderful adventures. And you'll stay with me, because if you don't, I'll forget how to fly."

Tinkerbell nodded, and smiled at Peter. He climbed into his bed, closed his eyes and fell almost instantly asleep. Tinkerbell's smile faded then, as she flew over to the sleeping boy. He looked so calm and confident, but Tinkerbell knew that it was not going to be that easy. He forgot things so easily, she wasn't sure would be able to keep his memory of Neverland alive. And if she did, all it would mean was that he and Wendy would be reunited, and she'd be alone again.

"Love you Peter." She whispered in fairy language to the sleeping boy.

III

Years actually pass quite quickly, despite how it sometimes feels. And years in the Summers Children Home passed especially quickly, as it was a home filled with children, and there is nothing quite as short as childhood.

Years saw Peter grow tall, and handsome, and yet still have something very childish about him. Years saw girls heads slowly start to turn as they noticed that the strange little oddball kid was actually not too bad. Years saw Peter's understanding of the world grow, until he could almost have passed for a normal teenage boy.

And, if they looked closely at night time and were quick about it, years saw a tiny little fairy's glow become weaker and weaker.

III

At the age of sixteen, well, approximately sixteen, Peter was very different from the strange little boy who had wandered the streets of London three years ago. He was basically educated, could pass for normal amongst a group of teenagers, had a good grasp of technology apart from the more complicated aspects of computers, and was actually clean. The only thing that set him apart from other teenage boys was his lack of interest in girls. He'd flirt with them, flirt shamelessly, but would never so much as hug any of the girls he knew. Once, Karla, who was a year younger than him, had tried to kiss him, and he had fell over himself trying to back away. She didn't talked to him for a week after, and then went back to normal, although maybe slightly more formal than before.

It has been mentioned before that Peter's arrival caused many changes in the Summer's Home, but now how. Upon his arrival, Peter gathered the younger children and the boys his age into a tribe much like the Lost Boys. He and a boy named Shem had ruled over them, and they were a force to be reckoned with. Teenage girls would come running from their rooms, screaming because of the gifts the tribe had left them. The carers are lucky to have never checked in on the children in the night and found them gone, because often Peter would take them on prowls around the streets. But apart from one or two of the children, the tribe was mainly harmless pranksters, who were just a bit more inventive now that Peter was around.

Peter had a few friends in the Summer's Home, but only four close ones. Shem was his age, and the two were probably the most mischievous children the carers had ever encountered. Abbey, when Peter had arrived, had been the baby of the house, and he had a soft spot for the little girl, who he imagined would be much like Wendy when she grew older. Jolie was Karla's best friend, but unlike Karla she showed little interest in boys, which was the reason Peter was able to get close to her without feeling bad about Wendy. And finally there was Nathaniel. He had left the house the year Peter had arrived, but had continued to visit regularly, and apart from Jack, who was almost a father figure, Nathaniel was the only person Peter looked up to. Strong, gentle, intelligent and kind, Nathaniel was what Peter aspired to be.

Peter attended a special school to accommodate his lack of previous education, and this school didn't take up a lot of his time. Unfortunately, the other children did attend full time school, and Peter would often find himself with hours of free time. When this happened the carers would often find Peter sitting at the back of the garden, where it always seemed to be a little brighter or sunnier then the rest of the garden. But maybe it wasn't quite so much brighter in recent years and months.

III

It was late in the night when Peter awoke to the sound of jingling bells. It took him awhile to translate the words in his head, too long, but still quicker than anyone else could.

"Thanks Tinkerbell." He whispered, and he had to be very quiet. He had long ago moved out of the small single bedroom, and now shared a room with Shem and another boy their age, Finn. He enjoyed sharing a room, but missed the privacy, and being able to talk openly with Tinkerbell.

"Is it tonight?" The fairy asked, cocking her head inquiringly.

"Yeah Tink, tonight we go get Wendy." He told her, grinning. He slid out of bed and silently changed into the clothes he had prepared before going to bed. It didn't occur to him to write a note explaining that he had left. It didn't really occur to him that he'd be missed. He understood so much more these days, but in some ways he was still very ignorant, "Um, Tink? I haven't flown for a long time. I might be a bit rusty."

Tinkerbell insisted he wouldn't be, and he stood at the window, looking out. It occurred to him for a moment that he might jump out and just fall, but he shook the thought from his head. No, he was Peter Pan, and he would _fly_.

Taking a deep breath, he summoned the thought of seeing Wendy again, and felt his feet rise from the ground. It was like he had never stopped flying, he felt it come back to him so naturally that he almost crowed with happiness, and took himself even higher. He slipped through the window, and then soared into the air.

The wind beat against his face, which was stretched into the biggest smile ever. His heart beat hard in his chest, and adrenaline pumped in his ears. He had forgotten the pure joy of this, the pure joy of not being tied to anything. But of course, he was tied to something. His heart slowed, and his adrenaline lowered, and he began the flight towards Wendy's home.

Three years ago he had been muddled by the banishment from Neverland, although he hadn't known that that was what it was back then. He had flown by instinct to Wendy's bedroom, and had taken no note to the scenery. But now he did, and he saw that things were not quite right. Most the houses looked the same, but at one point, where there had been houses there was a strange block like building, and then, where Wendy's house had been, there was a house quite different.

It gleamed white in the moonlight, and the window ledge was dark blue. But it was Wendy's house! He knew it was. So, edging closer, he peeked through the window of Wendy's room, and spied the sleeping figure.

It was a girl, a girl of the right age and size, and so Peter knew that he had got the right house.

"Tink, open the window." He whispered, and she obeyed. The latch opened, and the window slid open, allowing Peter to fly through. He entered the room, which looked a lot like Jolie's room, and flew over to the bed. He carefully took hold of the cover, and pulled it away from the sleeping girl's face, and then let out a yell of shock. There was a girl in that bed, but that girl was not Wendy!

And now she was awake.

III

Alix Temple was sixteen years old, and still believed in fairies. But only slightly. Most of her friends claimed to believe in fairies too, so it wasn't something she ever felt she needed to hide.

She also believed in dragons too, but slightly less than fairies, and she suspected that there weren't many of them left, maybe none at all. She also studied magic, but never practised it, not wanting to be disappointed if it didn't come true.

In short, Alix was a believer of the mystical, but did not believe that the mystical would ever happen to her.

But when she woke up to the sound of a gasp, and the sight of a boy hovering above her bed, she realised that she might have to re-evaluate her beliefs.

III

Kittybro: It's sweet? Ok, if you insist... Thank you!

Azul Bloom: I did think about the whole Peter Pan growing up thing, and I've explained my theory. It makes more sense in my head, but I hope I've explained it clearly enough in the story. And as for descriptive writing, I suck at it. Thanks for your comments though.

Kasmira36: I am a true Peter/Wendy shipper, and although I do fancy the pants of Jeremy Sumpter, I promise I won't pair Peter off with anyone other than Wendy. I know she's a hundred years dead, but I have a plan. It's cunning.


	4. Alix

Disclaimer: no one is mine except all the characters I made up and me. I'm pretty sure I belong to myself. If someone disagrees with that please tell me to whom I do belong. I'd like to have a word with them, find out why they haven't been giving me money.

Eek! Chapter 4! What am I doing, surely I should be working. But my shame, this self-insertion fic, beckons to me, and it must be completed. For all you Peter/Wendy Shippers, I've finally worked out how I'm going to get them together again. You will have to bear with me though. And if it looks like it's leaning towards Peter/Alix, please shout at me and throw stuff at me. My twisted fantasies must not be inflicted upon the masses. All reviews welcomed.

III

Peter immediately went to fly away, but then felt a blinding pain in the back of his head. Lights flashed in front of his eyes, and he lost consciousness, and fell onto the bed with a thud.

Tinkerbell, who had been hovering a while away, had seen the girl reach for the book by her side a throw it at Peter, but had not had time to react. Now, with Peter unconscious, she realised just how small and helpless she was, and dived under the bed, hoping not to be seen.

The book the girl had thrown at Peter landed loudly on the floor, and she had given out a little scream. There was a sound from below the room, and someone shouted up:

"Alix! Are you alright?"

"Y-yes!" The girl called back, staring wide-eyed at the boy on her bed, "Nightmare!"

"Go back to bed then." The voice replied, and then fell silent.

Peter was now regaining consciousness, for it had only been a little bump on the head, and began to open his eyes. Above him was a figure, who looked vaguely feminine, and he couldn't stop himself from whispering; "Wendy."

"What?" The figure asked, and his eyesight cleared up. It wasn't Wendy, but another girl, and she was holding a heavy book up in the air, ready to hit him again, "Who the hell are you?" She asked.

"You're not Wendy." He snarled, angry.

"No I'm bloody well not." She replied, "Now tell me who you are, or I'll whack you with this book. I knocked you out once, I'll do it again."

"I'm Peter." He told her, eyeing the book warily, "Where's Wendy?"

"Who the hell is Wendy?" The girl asked.

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling." He replied automatically, the name rolling off his tongue easily after having said it to himself so many times. The girl's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise, and her arm went limp, the book dropping to her side. Peter, sensing an advantage, sat up, and found they were both on the girl's large bed. He looked at the girl and saw that she wore a large black t-shirt with a face printed in black and white on it and a pair of pink star patterned pyjama bottoms. Her face, rather plump, was framed by reddish brown hair that fell to just above her shoulders, and her grey blue eyes were wide and fearful.

"Oh you're joking." She whispered.

"I'm not." He said, angrily.

"Please don't tell me your names Peter Pan." She said, shaking her head.

"Ok, I won't." He replied. At this point Tinkerbell decided it was probably safe for her, and flew out from under the bed, causing the girl to let out another scream.

"Alix! Go to bed!"

III

It was a fairy. It was human shaped, but tiny and had wings. And it appeared to be swearing at her. Oh god.

And Peter Pan! He couldn't be. But then, she could have sworn he was hovering over her bed when she woke up. But Peter pan wasn't sixteen-ish, and didn't wear a pair of baggy jeans and a blue baggy sweater. And he most certainly didn't fly into her bedroom!

"You're Peter Pan." Alix whispered, looking him over. He did have a vaguely feral look to him.

"You told me not to tell you that." He reminded her.

"Is that Tinkerbell?" She asked, eyeing the fairy with suspicion.

"How do you know about Tink?" Peter asked, surprised, but Alix just shook her head.

"But in the book it said she died." She muttered.

"Oh, you read the book." He shrugged, "It was wrong."

"Yes. No, wait, no. The book wasn't real at all, it was all wrong!" She exclaimed, "You don't exist. Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for Wendy." He told her, and the panic and astonishment slipped from her face, to be replaced with pity.

"But...the book was written over a hundred years ago. If it was real, Wendy would be long dead by now." She realised a moment too late how cruel a thing that was to say, but it was too late. Her hand flew to her mouth as she saw the boy's eyes fill with pain.

"She is not dead." He snarled, "I came back for her, I _grew up_ for her! She isn't dead."

"No, no, of course not." Alix said quickly.

"Everything's confusing, different." He muttered, "This world, this house. It used to be brown and made from bricks, and now it's white and strange."

"It was bombed during the Second World War." She explained, "It used to look like all the other houses but they rebuilt it different."

Peter knew about the Second World War, he had been taught about it in school, and had found it very interesting. But it had been so long ago...

"How long have you lived here?" He asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"All my life." She told him, "Sixteen years. But my dad bought this house about thirty years ago. No Wendy had lived here since before then."

"Then this is the wrong house." Peter said, and then added, "But it can't be, I know this is it. I know the way by heart. This is the darling house."

Alix was almost recovered from finding a boy in her bedroom in the middle of the night but was still slightly panicked by the fairy. She kept on glancing at it, perching on the boy's shoulders, and wanting the voice the words 'but there's no such thing as fairies'. Except, of course, there was. She had always believed it in the back of her head, and now there was proof, sitting right on front of her. And she was so _pretty_! Alix couldn't stop staring at the perfect creature. But Tinkerbell had seen her, and pulled a face and stuck out her tongue.

"She really doesn't like girls, does she?" She said finally, indicating to Tinkerbell. Peter glanced at the fairy and shrugged.

"She's looking out for me." He explained, looking troubled, "Um, girl? How old is the book, Peter Pan?"

"I told you, it's about a hundred years old." Alix said softly.

"And how old must Wendy have been when it was written?" He asked.

"I'm guessing at least twelve, if the author heard the story from her."

"So how old would Wendy be now."

"At least a hundred and twelve." There was no getting around it, "Peter, people die at about eighty or ninety."

"So I grew up for nothing." The sadness in his voice was unbearable, "She _grew up_. But why? I told her I would grow up for her, and she didn't believe me. And I've proved it now, all for nothing."

"The book doesn't say, because it's all prim and correct, but I kind of got the impression that you two had a thing...going on." She couldn't really explain it better than that.

"The book is all wrong." He told her, "It makes things up and leaves things out. It's not too far off though. But it doesn't tell how Wendy saved me."

"Then tell me the real story of Peter Pan and Wendy." Alix asked, her voice imploring, and Peter could not resist it. No one knew, no one knew how it had really happened. And besides, he had promised Wendy he would never forget, and he wanted to prove it to himself that he had kept that promise.

III

It was the early in the morning by the time he was finished, and Alix's eyes were wide and shining with tears. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, from telling the story, but was deeply satisfied with it. And Alix had been a good listener. She had laughed at the lost boys antics, cried during Peter's near defeat at the hands of Hook, and when he had told her of Tinkerbell drinking the poison for him, she had beamed so much at the fairy, that Tink couldn't help but feel slightly less threatened by the girl.

He had also told her of his return to the darling house, and how Wendy had sent him away, insisting that he would leave her again, and how it had occurred to him a while later to prove her wrong.

"I think it was probably a little longer than 'a while later'." Alix told him sadly, "I suppose you just didn't notice the time passing in Neverland."

"I suppose." He agreed sadly, and a tear fell from his eye. He wiped it hurriedly, and looked at his now wet hand with anger and surprise, "I wasn't crying."

"I know you weren't." She agreed, turning away slightly.

"I want to know how she lived her life." He said quietly, "I want to know whether she was happy or not. Whether she ever had a...husband."

"We could probably find out." Alix told him, "Not now, but if you came back another time, we could find out. During the day maybe. And maybe we could find out if she had any children. Her grandchildren would probably still be alive. Maybe we could track them down, and have them tell us about her."

Peter hesitated at this. Wendy's...grandchild? Someone who would only really of known Wendy as an old lady. But they would have known her.

"Could I come back tomorrow?" He asked.

"I have school tomorrow, unless you meet her here after." She thought about it, "Can you tell time?"

"Of course!" He exclaimed, looking quite insulted. It had taken him a long time to learn, but he had had the hang of it for several years now.

"Ok, ok, sorry." She held up her hands, "So how about you meet me outside my door, my door, not my window, at about five tomorrow afternoon?"

"Ok." He nodded, and began to hover. He noted that she stiffened slightly when he did this, and tried to smile reassuringly.

"You don't fly during the day, do you?" Alix asked, and he shook his head.

"No, only at night when people can't see me." He assured her.

"Peter!" She called, just as he was about to fly out the window, "Where have you been staying all these years?"

"Some nice people took me in, they look after a lot of children." He explained, "they do send me to school though, which is annoying."

"Poor boy." She laughed, shaking her head.

"Girl." He suddenly said, "I don't know your name."

"You don't? I was sure I told you." She shrugged, "I'm Alix."

"Goodnight Alix." And with that he was gone, out the window and into the sky.

"Night Peter." She whispered, and frowned, climbing into bed, "Oh, and this better of not been a dream, coz if it was..."

She laughed to herself and turned off the light. But she didn't sleep foe a long time.

III

Peter climbed back into the window and onto his bed. He changed back into his nightclothes, and slipped under the covers.

"I promise Tink, that as soon as I find out about Wendy we'll go back to Neverland." He whispered, feeling bad for the fairy. Tink just stroked his hair and made soothing noises, for she knew Peter well, and knew that, although he was hiding it well, he was dying inside. After a moment he let out a silent sob.

"She's dead Tink, Wendy's dead." He whispered, "I need her, I gave everything up for her, and she's dead. I should have grown up with her when I had the chance and now it's too late. I'm broken Tinkerbell, Neverland will never want me back. Everything's ruined now. I l-love her, and she's dead."

"Pete, is that you?" Came a voice from a nearby bed. It was Shem, and Peter had woken him up.

"Yes, it's me." He replied, trying to hide the tears in his voice. The mighty Peter Pan never cried in front of his Lost Boys, even the not-so-lost ones.

"Peter, who's dead?" Shem sounded worried.

"Go back to sleep."

"Are you alright? You sound weird." But now Tinkerbell had sidled over to the other boy's bed, and was sprinkling fairy dust on him to make him fall asleep. He might remember this when he woke up, he might not. If he did Peter would just declare that it was a dream.

III

Very short chappies here, not sure why. Well, it's coming along, isn't it? Yay, it is. A reminder, tell me off if I lean to close to Peter/Alix romance fic. I'll try to contain myself.

Thanks to:

Alexianoodsi: Thanks; I decided to read the book before starting this story, even thought it was inspired by the movie. I was quite charmed with both Peter's, despite their differences.

Smiling Dreamer: Yeah, my beta won't read this because it's self-insertion; so all my spelling and grammar have gone to pot. Neverland will be making an appearance later on in the story, but I'm not quite sure how yet. Thanks for the review!

Everyone, please review, it encourages me, really it does!


	5. Wendy's Life

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: I'm starting to realise that this story is going to go on too long unless I start being stricter with myself. The problem: I don't know how... Well, I'll try not to write anything unnecessary.

III

Alix stood outside her door, stamping her feet in the cold. Every now and then she could see her dad peering at her through the curtains, but she ignored him. She had told him she was meeting a friend to go to the library, which was sort of true, but now it just looked like she was hanging around for nothing.

"It wasn't a dream." She muttered, "It was real, he exists. Oh please don't let it have been a dream."

"Don't let what be a dream?" Came a voice from behind her, and she almost jumped into the air.

"Peter, damn it!" She shouted, "Don't creep up on me! Did you fly? I bet you flew."

"No, I don't fly during the day." They boy told her, grinning, "But I learnt how to walk silently in the forests of Neverland. And some things you just don't forget."

"So you got back home safe?" She asked, and he nodded. She started walking and he followed her, not bothering to ask where they were going, "Good. Don't the people you stay with check on you in the night?"

"They check on the little one's sometimes, but not anyone older than ten." He grinned, "Sometimes we all go out on adventures, where we explore the parks. Some of my friends like to buy drinks, and drink them, but the drinks are too expensive and taste funny."

Alix laughed and shook her head, marvelling at his innocence. Then she was reminded that this boy had killed pirates, and had to fight for his survival, and it occurred to her that maybe he wasn't completely innocent.

"So, where are we going?" Peter asked, looking around the road they were walking up.

"Ever been to a library?"

III

He had, it turned out, but none as big as the library they were in now. He had only ever been to the small library his school offered, and only ever went on there to hide in the stacks and talk to Tinkerbell.

But this library didn't seem like the place you could have a quiet conversation with a fairy. This library _bustled._

"It's so big." He told her as they walked in.

"I know, it's a really good library. Come on, over here." She led him over to a desk where a young woman sat, reading a book, "Excuse me miss, I wonder if you can help me?"

"Of course." She put down the book and peered at them, "What do you need?"

"Um, where do you keep the local newspapers?" Alix asked, suddenly looking nervous, "And how far back do they date?"

"Well, we have the hard copies of all the papers from the last fifty years, but if you need anything that predates that, we have a huge collection of newspapers scanned

onto the computers. I don't even know how far back they span. And you can check out specific things."

"That's exactly what we need." She smiled, "Where are the computers?"

"Over there." Just as they turned to leave, the woman called out, "It's funny, we don't get a lot of kids looking at the newspapers. I was just wondering why?"

"It's for social studies." Alix lied quickly, "Very important work."

"It's a shame; no one ever looks at them just out of interest." She shrugged, "Well, no one normal anyway. But you two look normal. You kids be good, ok?"

They agreed they would, and made their way over to the computers. It was true; they did look like normal kids. Peter wore a pair of straight leg jeans and a black t-shirt, a blue sweater tied around his waste, while Alix wore a pair of baggy jeans, a red t-shirt with a fake baseball team on it and a dark green army shirt. They could have been two normal teenagers doing research for a social studies project. No one could have guessed they were looking for hints of the life of the boy's long dead love.

"Ok, we don't know how old Wendy was when the book was written, so let's just look at articles from the last hundred years?" Alix said, sitting in front of the computer. Peter sat down next to her, a look of excitement forming on his face.

"And you're sure this computer will tell me about Wendy?" He asked. He often used computers at home, mainly for writing up homework and playing games, although occasionally he had tried the internet, and found himself completely lost.

"Nope, but it might." She shrugged, "If she's been mentioned in the newspapers at all, we'll find her. This paper is only for the local area, and if it was anything like it is today, it'll pretty much mention everyone."

She opened up the Search engine and typed in 'Wendy Darling, Wendy Moira Angela Darling'.

"Just in case it has her down as either." Alix explained, and pressed search. Two titles came up, and Alix stared at them in surprise. They were headlines. One read 'School girl wins young writers competition' and won read 'Lord Byron marries daughter of Banker.' "Let's read the one about the school girl first." She said quickly, moving the mouse, but Peter grabbed her hand, shaking his head.

"The second one." He said quietly, "We'll read the second one."

Alix reluctantly dragged the mouse over to the second headline and clicked it, bringing up the full article.

_Today a large reception turned up to see the marriage of Lord Charles Byron to Wendy Moira Angela Darling, the daughter of a prominent banker, George Darling. Lord Byron has recently become quite a public figure, turning up for many charity events in the local area, and no one had failed to notice that in recent months he has often been accompanied by the young Wendy Darling._

_Wendy, aged twenty three, was born in 1882, and it was her father who opened up the orphanage, 'The Lost Boys' ten years ago. _

_The wedding took place in the local park, and was an open event for all to attend. It was commented upon by many how charming Wendy looked, and how handsome Charles looked._

_Some of you may recognize the young bride's name, which is not surprising. The young heroine in the new book, Peter Pan, by J.M.Barrie was named after her, as he is a friend of her family, and many of the children in the book are based upon Wendy's many siblings. Wendy herself has had some works published, but is now, presumably, settling down into her new role as wife._

The article then went off into a description of the wedding. Alix could tell that the writer was not very interested in the story, but then, who would be? Some big wig Lord gets married, not exactly a page turner. But then again, the article had unearthed so many treasures. Wendy had known J.M.Barrie, and had told him the story, and he had adapted it and published it. It also gave them a year of birth, and a new name, Wendy Moira Angela _Byron_.

And of course, was the greatest treasure of all. Two photographs. One of the smiling couple surrounded by their family, and one of Wendy standing alone, in a simple dress with a pretty sash.

"That's Wendy then." Alix whispered, looking at the photos, "She was..."

"Beautiful." Peter finished, his eyes locked to the computer screen, "She was beautiful. And old."

"Only twenty two." She corrected, "That's not old at all, that's young. My dad would say that she's still just a girl. My brother's older than her."

"Just look at her eyes, she's old, an adult." He looked at the photo of the couple, "And he's the man she decided to spend the rest of her life with. He's nothing like me!"

Alix couldn't help but laugh slightly at the arrogance of that statement, "How do you know she was looking for someone like you? Maybe one Peter Pan was enough for her."

This statement appealed to his vanity, and he nodded, still looking at the man, "Does she look happy to you?"

"She looks happy." Alix said quietly, not knowing what Peter wanted to hear, "He looks happy to, the man she married, Charles Byron. I think they were very much in love."

"Is ten years a long time to wait for someone before giving up on them?" Peter asked, as if the answer had no relevance to him.

"It is if you know that they're not going to come back." She told him, the busied herself on the computer, printing out two copies or the article, giving one to Peter and keeping one for herself "Ok, now lets look for Wendy Byron, shall we?"

A number of other articles came up, and they read them all. Most were just mentions of her and Lord Byron attending charity events, but a few were just about the family. Wendy had had two children, a son named Charles, after his father, and a daughter named Jane. Lord Byron had bought the Wendy house off George Darling, who had bought a bigger house for the orphanage, and the couple and their two children had lived there for the entirety of the First World War. Then, presumably, the two children had moved home. There was an article on Jane's marriage to a man named Edward Masters, and another on the birth of their daughter Margaret. Charles, Wendy's son, was killed during world war two, and it also mentioned the bombing of the old Darling house.

"They moved away after that." Alix whispered, "I never wondered about the people who lived in my house when it was bombed. And to think it was the infamous Wendy Darling and her husband."

"I need to go toilette." Peter said suddenly, standing up, "Print out all those articles, I want the photos."

There were so many photos. Even as she grew old, Wendy had been stunning. But, as she had grown older, she had lost the look of happiness in her eyes that she had had on her wedding day. She began to look tired and sad, and Alix couldn't help but feel that she had made the wrong decision. Alix first noticed the look in the photos that had been taken after her children had grown up. It occurred to her that without the presence of childhood in her life, Wendy had withered away.

Alix printed out all the articles twice, and then clicked on the next one. She read the headline, and a gasp escaped her mouth.

"Oh _no_." She breathed, her eyes wide, "Oh please no."

'**Wife of Lord murdered by escaped prisoner.'**

She had known Wendy was dead, there was no way she could still be alive, but murder? She had only been sixty seven, which wasn't as old as some people thought it was. She had still had plenty of life in her. They had found the prisoner and he had been put back in prison. Alix checked the date of the article. In was written in 1949, over fifty years ago. How was she going to tell Peter?

"Back." Came a voice from behind her, he had returned. He picked up the stack of printed articles and began riffling through them, smiling at the photos, "These mine? Oh, that's a pretty picture of Wendy when she one the young writers competition, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Alix agreed, "Peter, you should read this one."

She pointed to the screen, and he moved over to have a better look. There was a minute of silence as he read it, and she saw his jaw clench, his eyes narrow.

"I'll kill him." Peter whispered, and there was so much anger and hatred in his voice that Alix shuddered.

"This happened over fifty years ago, and he was already in his forties." She explained, "Time has already killed him."

"That's not good enough!" The boy shouted, and stood up, his hand reaching for his waist. He looked down in confusion when his hand only grasped at the material of his t-shirt. Alix supposed that once upon a time, a knife had rested there. There were several shushing noises from around them, but Peter just glared.

"What can we do about it? Go back in time? He's dead Peter, and even if he hadn't killed Wendy, she'd be dead too by now. Life goes on." She stood up and looked him in the eyes, "You've never suffered a loss before, so I understand that this is hard, but there's nothing you can do. I'm sorry that you've lost Wendy, I really am, but don't get angry at me."

"I'm not angry at you." He said quietly, sitting down, "I'm angry at myself. This is my fault. If I had come back and stayed, it would have been me who married Wendy, and then it would have been different. And if she had still been murdered, then I would have been able to avenge her."

"So it's over now, you've found out what happened to her." Alix sat down next to him, picking up her pile of papers, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not ready to go back to Neverland. And I'm not sure if Neverland will want me back. I'm too grown up, but still not grown up enough." He frowned, tracking his words, "That didn't make sense, I can't explain it."

"I understand." She assured him, "You don't have to go back now. Look, it says here that Jane had a daughter called Margaret, who was born in 1933. So I think she'd be...seventy something? Seventy one, that's it. She'd still be alive, maybe we can track her down, get her to talk about Wendy. She'd be able to tell us so much that these articles can't. I mean, we were lucky to get all of this. If Wendy hadn't married such a public figure we'd still be lost, but there's so much more we can find out. What do you think?"

"Margaret..." Peter tasted the name, looking at a photo of Wendy, by now looking quite old, with her hand on the shoulder of a little girl. She wouldn't be a little girl anymore; she'd be an elderly lady. Alix was looking at him with her grey blue eyes, half questioning, half hopeful. Tinkerbell would be annoyed, but recently the fairy had mellowed, and Peter knew she would not argue, "I'd like to meet Margaret. Should we go to see her tomorrow?"

"Peter! I'll need to find out where she lives first." Alix sighed, shaking her head, "You're so impatient. I'll try and find out where she lives tonight, but I might not be able to find her for ages! Unless...can you find her?"

"How can I find someone if I don't know where they live?" He asked.

"Oh, never mind." She sighed again, and then looked at the clock, "Oh dear, the library will be closing soon. I'll just print off the rest of the articles, we can read them later."

There weren't many left, just a few on her funeral, and an obituary. Alix quickly searched for anything on Jane and Margaret, but there was only one on Jane, and none on Margaret. She gave one pile of papers to Peter and put her own in her bag. The two left the library, unsure on whether or not it had been a success.

"We know a lot about her life now." Alix said as they walked towards her house, "I think she was happy."

"Maybe at first." Peter shrugged, "But not near the end. Growing up was never for Wendy, I knew that. She may have wanted to grow up, but there was always a child in her heart. She should have stayed with me. Or I should have stayed with her, and we would have stayed children in our hearts forever."

Alix didn't know what to say to that, so she stayed quiet, and they walked in silence to her house.

"Do you have a phone where you live Peter?" She asked when they reached her front door.

"Of course." He replied. Did she think he lived in the Stone Age?

"This is my number, phone me tonight, ok? I'll tell you what I've found out about Margaret." She scribbled down her number on a piece of paper and handed it to him, "And don't forget."

He laughed and agreed he wouldn't, before saying goodbye and walking away.

Alix headed inside, calling a greeting to her parents. She made her way up to her bedroom, pulled out a piece of paper, took out all the articles, and started on a crude time line. Several hours later, she was still there, now with a calculator.

III

Peter arrived back at the Summers home at about seven. He strolled in to find Susan waiting, crossed armed.

"Where have you been?" She asked her voice dangerous.

"I went to the library." He answered.

"Don't lie to me Peter." She snapped.

"I'm not, look, this is the stuff I got off the library computer." He showed her the big pile of paper, but pulled it away when she went to take it, "No, mine."

"Don't act infantile, show me the papers." Susan demanded, and Peter complied, sort of. He took each paper and held it up for her to see, but held each one out of reach.

"See, library stuff." He said, pleased with himself.

"You're impossible." She sighed, shaking her head, "Peter, you know that you can't just go off and not tell anyone. We were all worried. Jack and Nick were about to go and look for you."

"I'm sorry. I promised my friend I would go and see her." He explained, although he wasn't sorry at all. He found that saying it made the adults less harsh on him.

"What friend?" Susan asked immediately. Peter got on famously with all the children in the house, but had made no friends out of it. Most the children he went to school with where 'problem kids' and many of them were socially inept at making friends, leaving Peter with no one to really call a friend.

"Just a girl called Alix; she's helping me out with something." Peter told her.

"Peter, is this a _girl friend_?"

"She's a girl who's my friend." He answered, looking bemused, "Like Jolie."

"Oh...well...ok." Susan shrugged, "Look, I'm glad you've made a friend, but when we expect you home at half three and you don't get home until seven, well...we get worried."

"Why?" He asked.

"Someone might have hurt you." She tried to explain. Sometime having Peter around was so difficult.

"People have always tried to hurt me, I can always beat them." And there it was, so innocently given, the first clue to Peter's life before he came to them. He was always so guarded about his past, and this was so casually said, it took Susan a moment to realise it for what it was.

"What do you mean; people have always tried to hurt you?" She asked, but Peter just shrugged, "Peter, who tried to hurt you?"

"Oh, they're all long gone now; you don't have to worry about them." He assured her, "I can't remember most of them anyway, I forget about them as soon as they're gone."

The words struck a cord in Susan's memory; it had been what Peter Pan had said to Wendy when he had taken her for spring cleaning the year after their adventure.

"Good." She muttered, looking down and frowning "That's good." She shook herself, then looked back up at Peter, "Anyway, dinner's ready, and if you apologise enough Laura might feed you. And Nathaniel's here."

"Really?" Peter grinned and hurried into the kitchen. There sat the tall blond boy, bouncing Abbey on his knee.

"Nat!" Peter cried happily.

"Hey Pete." Nathaniel grinned, "Not dead then?"

"Never." He then turned to look at Laura, who was glaring at him, "I'm sorry I was late home I went to the library with my new friend Alix it was for her social studies project."

He said all this very quickly, and Laura blinked in surprise.

"Social Library who?" She managed.

"Library, social studies, Alix." He repeated, "She needed help."

"Who's Alix?" Karla asked, her voice sounding strange.

"New friend." Peter replied, sitting down between Shem and Nathaniel.

"Go Pete." Nathaniel grinned, but the younger boy just looked at him in confusion.

"Is Alix nice?" Jolie asked from across the table. Peter frowned, he hadn't really thought about it. Was Alix nice? She was helping him, which was nice of her, but was she nice? He really didn't know her well enough to tell.

"She's ok, I think." He replied, "I can talk to her about things I can't talk to anyone else about."

"Shall I start feeling offended now?" Jolie asked. Beside her, Karla was glaring at him.

"Oh don't be offended, it was an accident really." He explained, "I thought she was someone else. Now we're friends."

"Is she your girl friend?" Abbey asked, giggling.

"She's a girl who's my friend." He told the little girl, "Why does everyone ask me that?"

Everyone laughed and started eating, leaving peter confused. Jack and Nick came in, and he had to suffer a few minutes being berated by them. Then Susan and Edith came in, and Edith gave him another telling off, until he was quite sick of it.

"Don't worry about it." Nathaniel whispered, "They'll start giving you freedom eventually. For now you'll just have to tell them where you're going to be."

They finished dinner, and then Peter and Shem headed up to their room. Flinn, the boy they shared it with, normally hung out with the older boys, so they were alone. Peter pulled out all the paper Alix had given him, and started looking at them all. He really liked the article about Wendy winning the writing competition, and he liked the picture that went with it. It can't have happened too long after she had returned, because she still looked young. Her hair was pulled into two plaits, and she wore a pretty dress. She was smiling at the camera, looking quite embarrassed, and he couldn't help run a finger lovingly over her face.

"What's that Pete?" Shem asked. He had been mucking round on his guitar, but now he was looking over at Peter with curiosity in his eyes.

"Stuff for Alix's Social Studies project." He lied.

"Can I see?"

"Um...ok." He reluctantly handed over the paper, which Shem took.

"I can't believe girl's had to wear those dresses. Pretty much leaves everything to the imagination. She's pretty though." Shem riffled through all the paper, "Are they all the same girl? Yuck, look at her when she's old."

"Give them back." Peter said angrily, grabbing the paper. How dare he insult Wendy?

"Ok, ok. Sorry." Shem shrugged, "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, ok? You just shouldn't say that about...old ladies." He hated calling her that, but what else could he say? I'm in love with her? Yeah, that'd go down well. He took out the picture of her wedding day and looked at it again. She was stunning. He, reluctantly, picked up the picture of her and her husband, and began inspecting him. He might have been handsome, peter wouldn't know. He had fairly light hair, it was a black and white photo so he couldn't see what colour, and he was smiling. His head was slightly turned, and Peter could tell he was looking at Wendy out of the corner of his eye. She was looking at him completely, and her face was shining with joy.

It should have been me. The voice rose up inside him, but he pushed it back down. He took another photo, this one much later. Wendy was a middle aged woman, and it was a photo of her and her whole family at some event or another. Her two children, almost adults themselves, seemed uninterested in their parents. The boy, Charles, who looked a lot like his father, was smiling at a pretty girl, and the girl, Jane, was reading a book. Wendy's husband was talking animatedly to the man beside him. He had lost the smile on his face, and looked sharp and stern. Wendy, standing slightly behind her husband, was looking at him with a look of both sadness and disappointment.

This is the man you chose Wendy. Peter thought to himself. Isn't he wonderful? Aren't you so happy all grown up? Your children no longer want to hear your stories, your husband isn't the man you married, and you're all alone in a world of grown ups. Are you happy Wendy? You could have lived in the skies with me, and you chose this.

The bitterness of his thoughts surprised him, and he pushed them away. Unfortunately, all that meant was that he thought the sadder thoughts.

Why did you leave me Wendy? You weren't made for this. You were made for me. You were made to be my queen. And instead you had to live as servant to this husband, and these children. And your children grew up, and your husband grew away, and you were all alone, like me. We could have been together, but now... Now you're dead Wendy. And all I have left is a bunch of useless photos.

"Pete, are you crying?" Shem asked. Peter hadn't realised he was, and quickly rubbed his eyes.

"I wasn't crying." He said quickly, "Just something in my eye. I need to go do something."

He left the room and made his way down to the payphone in the common room. Some of the kids were watching T.V., but the payphone was positioned in a little mezzanine where you could almost have a private conversation. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and dialled the number. It rang several times before a female voice said hello.

"Hi, can I speak to Alix?"

III

Mike: Well, I do have an idea as to how Peter and Wendy get back together, but the more I think about it, the vaguer it becomes! It seemed like such a plausible idea in the beginning... No worry, Peter and Wendy shall be reunited.

Stefanie: well, it involves a piece of string, two Vegas dancers and an Eeyore pez candy dispenser... Only joking. Don't well all love an adventure?

MelissaAdams: I really can't explain why I love inflicting pain upon the characters I love, I really can't. There are gonna be a whole lot more Poor Peter's.

Kittybro: Wow, that's my first yummy! Yay! You get a cookie! As for the poor Peter...see above!

Ciara Lewis: Thanks for the long review, I love them! And I'm not a big fan of Peter deciding to grow completely up, or Wendy staying young. It's just not what either of them would do! But I think I have cleverly found a way around that. Or people will just say "that was stupid and unlikely" and throw stuff at me. Whatever.

Review!


	6. Margaret

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Short chappie this time, sorry! Oh well, you'll get over it.

III

Alix smiled as she heard the boy's voice on the phone. Only moments before, she had found the exact thing she had needed most, and now she didn't have to wait to tell Peter.

"I've found her!" She squeaked down the phone.

"Who?" He asked, bemused, and she sighed, frustrated.

"Don't you remember anything?" Alix asked, "Margaret! Wendy's granddaughter. I've been on the internet all night, and I've found out a whole ton of stuff about her. She owns the orphanage Wendy's father started up, you know, 'the Lost Boys'? Well, she owns it, but she's not there all the time, and I can't find her home address, so we can't go and see her anytime soon, but we can go and see her!"

"I think you might have to repeat that." Peter told her, "Slower...and clearer."

Alix sighed and laughed, and repeated everything she had just told him.

"When is she at the orphanage?" He asked.

"Sundays." Alix told him. It was Monday, so she wouldn't be there for another week, "She used to work their full time, but she's quite an old lady now."

That was just so depressing, even Alix thought it. Wendy's granddaughter, an old woman.

"It's funny though." Alix muttered, "In the book, Wendy's daughter was called Jane, and her granddaughter was called Margaret, but Wendy wasn't even married when it was written. How did J.M.Barrie know?"

"Maybe Wendy told him she wanted to call her daughter Jane." Peter suggested.

"And Margaret?"

"Maybe Jane just thought it was right that she continued the tradition."

"I suppose that could be it." Alix sighed sadly, "I wonder if either of them ever waited by the window for you to come and take them spring cleaning."

"It wouldn't have been right." Peter told her, "I only ever wanted to fly with Wendy."

"You took her brothers with you too." Alix reminded him.

"Did I?" He asked, "I've forgotten. She's the only one I've ever remembered."

"I know." She told him, "Look, Peter, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I really need to get to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied, and they both hung up.

Alix turned off her computer, and climbed into bed. She turned off her light, and stared into the darkness.

"How long, Peter." She whispered, "How long will it take you to forget me?"

III

Peter sat at the end of a garden, on the crude swing that had been built many years ago. Next to him, Tinkerbell glowed faintly, nodding as he spoke.

"I know I said we'd go home as soon as I found out about Wendy, but I really want to meet Margaret." He explained, "She'll tell me lots of things about Wendy, and then I won't be broken anymore, and Neverland will want me back. I really can't go back now, Neverland doesn't want me, but it will soon. I can't wait to go back, can you? I wonder how the Lost Boys have done without us."

Tinkerbell knew it was best not to speak at these moments, just to let Peter talk to himself. No one knew better than Tink how much Peter loved to hear himself speak, and she didn't feel like interrupting. She was tired, and it was getting harder and harder to make peter understand what she was saying. She tried to convince herself that he wasn't forgetting the language of fairies, but she could see the proof to the contrary.

"Peter!" Edith, one of the careers, called from the house, "What are you doing out there? It's late, it's getting dark, come back inside!"

"One minute!" He called back.

"Do you have a torch out there?" She asked.

"Um...yes!" He replied.

"Well, it looks like it needs new batteries." Peter frowned at that. What did she mean? He looked at Tinkerbell, the source of light, and then shook his head.

"Wait outside my window Tink; I'll let you in when Shem and Finn fall asleep." He told her, and then headed indoors.

Tinkerbell sat on the swing for a while, watching Peter's window, waiting for the light to go out. She looked down at her hand, which looked so...human. Just a small amount of light surrounded it. Nothing like the dazzling brightness of her youth. Peter didn't notice, he hardly ever noticed anything. She didn't blame him, not really. He was just a boy after all. She looked up at his window again. She was still waiting for the light to go out. In a way, she was waiting for her own light to go out too.

III

Days passed. Peter and Alix spoke regularly, but she attended college, and often had a lot of work to do. When the other children where at school, he read over the newspaper articles, until he knew them nearly all by heart, and stroked the pictured of Wendy so lovingly that they started to fade. His heart swelled and broke every time he looked at her sweet face, especially the older photos of her. She looked so sad and alone. He wanted to scream with the pain he felt for her.

She was lost to him forever.

And then Sunday came. He dressed himself in the morning, and picked up his back pack, which he opened wide.

"Tink." He whispered, "Into the bag Tink. We're going to go and see Margaret."

"I'm coming?" Tinkerbell said, surprised.

"Of course you are." He laughed, "As if I'd leave you behind. We might be going straight home after this."

The fairy was so overjoyed to hear this that for a moment she glowed brighter than she had in years, and Peter smiled down at her.

"In you go." He said, indicating to his bag, "We have to go and see Alix."

He told Jack, who was having breakfast when he got downstairs, that he was going to the library for the day, to help Alix with her Social Studies project. Then he left the house.

Peter never had a problem finding a place once he's been there once, but it was much easier to fly than walk. But it was too bright, he'd be seen, so he walked.

Alix wasn't waiting for him outside her house this time, and he opened that gate, and walked towards the house. There were two bells, and he satisfied himself by pressing both of them.

The girl who answered the door was small, but looked older than him, maybe a bit younger than Nathaniel. Her red hair was cut short, except two strands by her ears which reached below her ears. She was pretty and looked vaguely elfin.

"Can I help you?" She asked, starring at him blankly.

"I'm here to see Alix." He explained, and a grin broke onto her face.

"Oh really?" She asked, raising her eyebrow "Ok. Alix! There's someone here to see you!"

Alix appeared at the top of the stairs which where behind the girl, and smiled down at him.

"Hi Peter." She called, descending the stairs. The girl who had answered the door moved out of the way to let Alix through. As Alix moved past her, she whispered something into her ear, and Alix grinned and nodded. She grabbed her coat, said goodbye to the girl, and walked out the door.

"Who was that?" Peter asked when the door closed.

"My sister, Jade." Alix explained, pulling on her coat.

"What did she whisper to you?" He asked.

"She said that you were cute." She told him, grinning.

"And you agreed?" He grinned back, looking proud.

"Well, you are." She told him, "Like a puppy. One who hasn't been washed enough."

"I wash!" He exclaimed, "I washed this morning!"

"Sure you did."

"I did!"

"I believe you, I really do."

"No you don't!"

III

The orphanage was forty minutes walk away away, and the two teenagers talked all the way. Mostly it was Peter telling Alix about some of his Neverland adventures, but occasionally he'd show some interest in her life, and she told him about her family, friends and college.

"I was supposed to start college this year." He told her, "My friend Shem, and two other kids in our Home called Naomi and Finn both started college this year. But they weren't sure if I was ready, so they decided to wait another year. The school I'm at isn't very good. Well all have individual teachers, and don't get to have much fun. And all the other kids are either really stupid or really badly behaved."

"Whereas you are the epitome of intelligence and good behaviour." Alix laughed.

"Yes." He agreed, but he was smiling, he knew she was joking.

They finally arrived at the orphanage, which was a great deal bigger than the Summer's Children's Home.

Alix walked forward and pressed the buzzer. After a few seconds the door buzzed, and Alix pulled it open.

They walked into what looked like a reception area, and behind a glass screen a woman sat at a desk. They made their way over, and the woman peered up at them though half rimmed glasses.

"How can I help you?" She asked, and her voice was thin and reedy.

"Is this the Lost Boys orphanage?" Alix asked, nervous.

"It is. And how can I help you?" She asked again.

"We want to talk to Margaret...Shackle, is it? Or did she keep her maiden name, Masters?" Alix looked flustered, and was blushing. She seemed to do that a lot when talking to people behind desks.

"Mrs Shackle is here, yes." The woman nodded, "And who are you?"

"My name's Alix Temple." Alix said nervously, "We really need to talk to her."

"I'm afraid you'll have to tell me why you need to see her." The woman explained, "Mrs Shackle is a very busy woman, and unless it's important you'll have to make an appointment."

"It's about her grandmother." Alix told her.

"Her grandmother is long dead."

"We know that." Peter snapped. He had been silent since walking into the building, but this offhanded mention of Wendy's death had upset him, "But we still want to talk to Margaret about her."

"Can you just phone her or something?" Alix asked, "Tell her that we want to speak to her about her grandmother and that...and that Peter is here to see her."

"Peter." The woman nodded, eyeing the boy, "Are you a friend of Mrs Shackle?"

"A friend of the family." Alix quickly interjected, "Please, it's important. She'll want to see us."

"Well, we shall see." The woman picked up a phone, and pressed a single button. There was a pause, and then, "Hello, Mrs Shackle? It's the office here. I have two teenagers wanting to see you...Yes, that's right. They say they want to speak to you about your grandmother...yes, your grandmother...Well I told them that you were busy but they were quite insistent..."

Alix, feeling that the conversation was going badly, quickly spoke. "Peter is here to see her, remember? Peter."

"Yes, yes. One of them had just reminded me of something...yes...she says that Peter is here to see you...Your grandmother, that's right...Peter...Well, I don't know, he's about seventeen, blondish hair...blue...well I suppose he's good looking, although I am too old to judge...what? Send them up? Are you sure?...Yes, yes, alright, I'll send them right up."

She hung up the phone and peered at the two teenagers, who were grinning at each other.

"Well, Mrs Shackle has told me to send you up." The woman told them, "Her office is on the second floor, there are pointers leading to it. If you get lost, ask any of the children you see around where it is."

They nodded, and made their way upstairs. The pointers were pretty clear, and they soon found themselves outside a large oak door with the words "Margaret Shackle" inserted in a brass name holder. Alix grinned over at him.

"It's like being sent to the Head Teacher's office." She told him, and then raised her hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Called a voice, and they pushed the door open and walked in.

Margaret sat behind a desk. She was seventy one, Alix had worked that out ages ago, but she actually looked a lot younger. Her blonde white hair was placed in a loose bun, and her green grey eyes peered at them through small glasses. She was petit, but not frail, and every line on her aged face seemed to radiate power. But when she set her eyes upon Peter, her whole face softened.

"Oh my dear boy." She whispered, "Oh my dear, dear boy. Look at you."

She stood up, and walked towards them slowly; as if afraid they might turn around and run.

"You know who he is?" Alix asked tentatively.

"Oh I know." She replied, "He's just as Nana Wendy described him. Hair as gold as the sun, eyes as blue as the sky, and a smell of the wind about him. A child of the sky."

"Wendy." Peter managed, "She talked about me."

"Constantly." Margaret assured him, "It drove Grandpa Charles up the wall near the end, he said that he could never live up to you."

Peter grinned over at Alix, who just laughed and shook her head, before holding out a hand to Margaret.

"I'm Alix." She said, and Margaret took her hand, shaking it.

"Well, young Alix, how did you get involved in the tail of Peter Pan?" The elderly woman asked, indicating to two chairs in front of her desk, "Please, please, sit down."

"Um, I live in the old Darling house." She explained, "Peter came looking for Wendy...and found me."

"You came back for her!" The look of happiness on Margaret's face was priceless, and Alix found herself smiling too.

"Of course I came back for her!" Peter exclaimed, "I was just a little...late. But I want to find out all about her, so that I can go home."

"Find out all about Wendy? Well, we'll be here a while." Margaret laughed, and then picked up her phone, "Is this the office? Good, can you cancel all of my appointments today? Tell them that I will make time to see them tomorrow. Thank you."

She hung up, and turned back to them, "Now where should I start?"

"One minute." Peter swung his bag off his back, and unzipped it. There was a tinkle of bells, and Tink flew out.

"Oh dear Goodness." Margaret gasped, "She's beautiful. Nana Wendy always said she was, but I never knew how much."

"She is, isn't she?" Alix agreed. Tinkerbell, who was not used to such flattery, blushed slightly, and landed on Peter's shoulder.

"Wendy." Peter repeated, "I want to know about Wendy."

"Nana Wendy." Margaret sat back down behind her desk, putting her hands together, "She was most probably the most wonderful woman I had ever met. She died when I was about you age, and my mother and I never really got over it. She told the most wonderful stories, mainly about you Peter, and I don't think my mother ever really got past the idea that one day you would come for her, like you did in the book. I knew you would never come for me, but I had hoped you would come back, just one more time, to hear one of Nana Wendy's stories."

"I wanted to." Peter told her, "I wanted to hear her stories everyday, for the rest of forever, but she wanted to grow up in a world where stories were only for children. I thought that if she grew up she'd stop telling them."

"She never stopped telling them." The elderly woman assured him, "She told us so many stories, but she kept some for herself too. She wrote them all down in a diary. And she sealed the diary with pixie dust, so that nobody could take those stories from her."

"How do you know that?" Peter asked.

"She told me so." Margaret told him, looking quite stern, "Nana Wendy wouldn't have lied to me."

"Margaret." Alix said quickly, "Do you still have that diary?"

III

Thanks to:

Prieto: Even if Peter had a time machine, there'd still be the problem that Wendy wanted to grow up. Trust me, this way's better. Or possibly much, much worse, depending on how well I can write.

Miki123: Ah! Now I can't give up on this story and concentrate on important things, like school! Oh well, I never liked Biology anyway...

Kittybro: It's an interesting idea, one which I hadn't thought of, but no. Good guess though!

JESSEK: Well, I'm updating now. Is that soon enough?

Kasmira36: Yes, it is PeterWendy all the way. How could I deny those two lovebirds their happy ending? I couldn't possibly, even if I do want to eat Peter Pan all up myself ï

Mike: Wow, you were really drawn in? feels so complimented Thank you! I don't know if this chapter was so good, but hopefully it is!

Please Review!


	7. Her Diary

Disclaimer: Not mine!

A.N.: Sorry it took so long to update, and sorry if this is a bit weird, it was written all in one go, from 10 o'clock in the evening to 1 o'clock in the morning.

III

Her Diary

III

Margaret led the two teenagers into what could have been a basement. It was, indeed, underground, but looked more like a pantry then a basement. On the wall was a large painting of a young woman sitting down, and young man standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder, a small boy standing by the man's side and an even smaller girl sitting on the woman's knee. Alix had seen enough newspaper clippings to know who they were. So had Peter.

"Wendy." He whispered.

"Yes, my grandfather insisted on having it painted after my mother was born, and Nana Wendy left it to her in her Will, and she left it to me." Margaret explained, "Mother hated it."

"It's not very good." Peter agreed, "You can't see any of Wendy's…goodness. She looks empty."

"Why is it down here?" Alix asked, "I mean, it's very well painted, why isn't it in the entrance hall?"

"Because it's a secret." Margaret grinned, and reached pulled at the picture frame. Alix gasped, sure it was going to drop off the wall, but instead it swung open, revealing a safe, "I keep everything to do with my family, especially my grandmother, in this safe. My home was robbed a few years ago, and I didn't feel it was safe there."

She pulled out a battered old book, and handed it to Peter, who took it lovingly in his hands. He stroked the cover for a moment, before looking up at Margaret.

"You said she sealed it with Pixie Dust?"

"My mother and I tried to open it for years, but we never could." The old woman told him, "We tried everything short of ripping it open. You can try but I don't know if-"

She stopped, because as Peter ran his finger over the golden lock, the book had sprung open.

"Oh." She whispered.

"As if Wendy could ever keep anything locked away from Peter." Alix grinned, and Margaret could not help but smile back.

"No, I suppose she couldn't." She agreed.

III

"So, are you going to leave tonight?" Alix asked. They were standing outside her house, Peter clutching the diary tightly.

"After I've read the diary, yes." He nodded.

"Then I suppose this is goodbye." She laughed at that, "God that sounds cheesy."

"Well, all girls are cheesy." He told her, and she hit him lightly on the arm.

"Shut up." She grinned, "It was…really great meeting you. Not many people get to say they hung out with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell."

"Um…Alix." He looked away, as though embarrassed, "Thank you, for everything. I'd never have found any of this if it wasn't for you."

"It was nothing Peter." She hesitated for a second before hugging him, "Come visit me next time you're in London, no matter how old I am."

"I will." He promised, and started his walk home.

Alix watched him walk for a moment before heading back into her house. She greeted her parents briefly and hurried up to her room. Closing the door behind her, she stumbled towards her bed, finally allowing herself to cry.

"Damn it Peter." She whispered, "Why couldn't you have asked me to fly away with you?"

But she knew the answer, and it only made her cry harder.

III

_Dear Diary,_

_Charles has asked me to marry him. Mother and Father approve, so I suppose I should be happy. He is a charming young man, and I enjoy his company a lot. And I think he likes my stories. And he doesn't seem to mind that I have other male friends. What would I do if I could not talk to James Barrie? _

_I was so pleased when James got his book published. True, it is not exactly as I told it, but it is supposed to be a children's book, and the true story may be a little too grown up for them. And, of course, he had to make the story his own is some way. _

_I wish the ending really had been true, with me going off to visit Peter once a year. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be so much better then never seeing him again._

_Oh I miss Peter so. I don't think I could love anyone as I loved him. No, not even Charles, although I am fond of him._

_I miss Peter._

_I miss Peter._

_I miss Peter._

_Dear Diary,_

_Mother is ecstatic. She says that it was the most beautiful wedding she had ever seen. I suppose it was nice._

_But I so hoped that he would turn up, to claim me as his own. I knew he would not though._

_Dear Diary,_

_I am pregnant. Mother is, of course, delighted. She hopes it will be a girl. So do I. I mean, I love little Charlie, but he is far more his father's child then mine. If it is a girl, I shall call her Jane, like in the book._

_Dear Diary,_

_Jane said her first word today. It was Peter! I am so happy! Charles was not very pleased, and Charlie just laughed, but it warms my heart to hear Peter's name upon a child's lips. Just as it should be._

_Dear Diary,_

_A war has broken out. I was terrified that Charles would have to go away, but his leg injury means that he's unfit. He was so angry when that car hit him; he said that it ruined his life. I think now he's sees that it actually saved his life._

_Charlie will no longer listen to my stories about Peter. He says they are infantile. Jane still listens to them religiously, she loves them. She has taken to insisting that the window of the nursery is kept open. She says that Peter will come for her, like he did in the book._

_If he does not, she will be wither heartbroken, or will cease to believe that he exists, like Charlie. If he does…I should be happy for her if he does come. But I know that I will be jealous. Jane will be the little girl who flies in the sky with the boy I love._

_Yes, even though I should be over him, I still love him, with the same innocent love of childhood. My love for Charles is the love of an adult, and it can never compare. Charles knows that, and that is why he hates my stories._

_I can hear him, building a bomb shelter in the cellar._

_Dear Diary,_

_Today the war had ended! Charlie and Jane were playing out in the road with all the other children, dancing and celebrating. For the first time on over a year Charles smiled at me, and kissed my hand as he used to when we were young. For a moment I saw the young charming man I married, instead of the crippled bitter man he has become._

_Jane has an admirer. Edward Masters, the son of one of Charles' friends, has taken to following her around. She is embarrassed of course, but I think it is sweet. He is a blond boy, with light blue eyes. If she is anything like her mother, he is just the sort of boy she will fall for._

_Dear Diary,_

_Edward has asked for Jane's hand in marriage. Charles and I agree that it is acceptable. Jane is overjoyed. I hope that she has chosen a better companion than I did._

_Charles and I rarely talk anymore. He spends all day in his study, being miserable over his leg, which seems to get worse everyday. He now cannot walk without his walking stick. I feel that he is chained to the ground, and that he is chaining me down with him._

_How I wish I could fly, like I did in my youth._

_Dear Diary,_

_Jane has had her child. It is a beautiful little girl. She has named her Margaret. Somehow I had hoped that Jane had got over the childhood stories of Peter Pan, but she has not. When Jane placed the baby in her crib she whispered to her "I hope that he visits you, like he never visited me." How can I explain to Jane that he did not abandon her, but me?_

_Charlie, it seems, is as lost to me as his father. He told me today that I am a bad wife for not supporting Charles more. I explained to him that his father is a stubborn ass who wallows in self pity. _

_When I told Peter that there was so much more, I did not mean this. I did not mean a miserable husband, an arrogant son and a disillusioned daughter. Margaret seems to be the last bit of happiness I have. When I look into her sweet face, I feel the stirring of childhood once again. But other than that, I have nothing of the young Wendy inside me._

_Dear Diary,_

_We are at war again, and Charlie has gone off to fight. I begged him not to, but Charles gave some speech about 'a man's duty' and told Charlie that he was proud of him. I almost killed him. He's sent our son off to die in some foreign country, alone._

_I can feel the last bit of my childhood dying. With Charlie off at war, Jane raising her daughter with her husband, and Charles making me as miserable as possible every chance he gets, I am withering away._

_I have decided that I must do something. I am going to put together every scrap of childhood that I can summon into a box, and seal it, just in case Peter ever does come back for me. Then he can have that box, which will contain the Wendy he loved. For god knows I am not her._

_Margaret is the only one I live for. My husband and children are all bitter in one way or another, Charles over his leg, Charlie over something, possibly my lack of affection for him as a child, and Jane over Peter never coming for her. But Margaret is perfect, and I will make sure that she will never be bitter._

_Perhaps she will be the one who will give the box containing my childhood to Peter._

III

Peter did not even stop to pick up the diary when he knocked it over in his rush to get to the phone.

III

"Ok, ok, explain again." Alix urged him. Peter had phoned her up a few minutes before and had hurriedly explained something to her, but she had no idea what.

"She put her childhood somewhere!" he shouted down the phone, "In a box! It's all there, her childhood, waiting for me! I have to find it, that's what will fix me!"

"Peter, go and get the diary, she might have written where she put it in her diary." Alix ordered, and she heard him scrambling around down the line.

"Ok, one minute." He said, and she heard the rustling of paper, "Ok, she doesn't mention the box for a while, and then…Oh no."

"What, what is it?" Alix asked.

"This is after her house got blown up. She says she's worried because she hid the box in the house, and now she thinks it's been destroyed." Peter explained, "She says she wanted to grab it when they were hiding, but didn't want Charles to see… Where would they have been hiding?"

"In a bomb shelter, probably." Alix told him, "But I'm pretty sure there isn't a bomb shelter in our house."

"But there was!" Peter exclaimed, "Look, listen to this, '_I can hear him, building a bomb shelter in the cellar._' It's in your cellar!"

"Peter, it won't still be there." Alix pointed out.

"Yes it will, it will!" he shouted down the phone so loudly that she had to move the receiver away from her ear, "Go look for it now, I'm coming right over."

He slammed the phone down, and Alix was left with a silent phone line.

"Damn it!" She muttered, "As if it'll still be there!"

But she still made her way down to her bottom floor, and stood outside the cellar door.

"Dad!" She called out nervously, "My light bulbs gone! I'm gonna go get a new one from the cellar, ok?"

"Alright." Her dad called out from the living room, "But be careful on the stairs."

Alix's cellar wasn't a very bad one, not really. It was small and dusty, true, but brightly lit, and filled with interesting things accumulated over the years. She made her way down the stairs, which were more like a ladder really, and picked her way past the old wheel chair and table that took up most the room.

"Where the hell do I start?" She muttered, and picked up a box at random and moved it out of the way.

Half an hour later she was still sifting through the mess.

"Ok, ok, be methodical. If I wanted to hide something, I'd hide it in a place where it would be safe, and not easily seen. Maybe in the walls?" She began to inspect all the walls for loose bricks, but they were all reassuringly sturdy. It occurred to her to look for loose floor boards, but then she reminded herself that the floor was made from solid concrete.

"Alix!" her dad called down, "Are you still looking for light bulbs?"

"Um…yeah…and look, there they are!" She called up, diving for the box of light bulbs on the table. Just as her hand closed around the box she felt herself loose balance, and grabbed wildly for something to keep her balance. She clutched the back of a chair, but that only resulted in bringing the chair down with her, and it banged against the floor with a hollow thud.

"Are you alright?" her father called out, surprised at the noise.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" She assured him, "I'm…wait?"

The chair had landed with a hollow thud…on solid concrete?

She picked up the chair and moved it away; running her hands over the area it had landed on. It was slightly bouncy, like warped wood. She looked over at the nearest wall, and saw that the floor seemed to fall short of the brick. Prizing her fingers into the small space, she began to pull back what seemed to be a sort of thick grey plastic, which looked identical to the concrete floor. And below it, just as she had thought, was warped wood. Again, she prized her fingers into a small space, this one the space between the floorboards, and lifted the wood.

The box was untouched by dust, the plastic having kept all of it out. Alix reached in and grabbed it, before letting the wood fall back into place. She replaced the plastic covering, and started to make her way back up the stairs before remembering the light bulbs. She passed her father as she closed the cellar door.

"You're covered in dust." He noted.

"I'll shower later." She promised, and rushed up the stairs. She ran into her bedroom, and yelped in surprise when she found it occupied.

"Peter!" She exclaimed, her hand at her chest, "Give me a bloody heart attack, why don't you!"

"Sorry." He grinned, then looked at her hand, "Is that it?"

"I think so." She replied, passing him the box, "Peter…please don't get your hopes up about this."

He didn't reply as his fingers ran over the small box. It was plain, just a simply carving for a pattern in the lid. There was no lock, and it put up no resistance as Peter lifted the lid. Alix inhaled sharply, and then…nothing.

"What's inside?" She asked.

"Things." He whispered, "Just…things."

He showed her. There was a folded up piece of paper, an acorn, some dried flowers, a very ornate necklace, a dagger, a lock of hair and some dust.

"What are they?" Alix said nervously.

"Those are Neverland flowers." Peter pointed, "That's the dagger Nibs gave her to defend herself, that's a lock of her hair, that's one of the jewels we stole from the pirates, that's Pixie Dust, and that's my kiss."

"And the paper?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"Don't you want to see?" Alix asked.

"You look." Peter told her, and she nodded, and took the paper.

"It's a poem." She said after a moment, "A love poem…about you."

"Oh." There was a long silence, and then; "I thought it would really be her."

"I know you did." Alix said sadly.

Tinkerbell, who rarely made any noise these days, tugged affectionately at Peter's hair.

"I suppose you're going to go back to Neverland now." Alix murmured.

"No." Peter shook his head, "I can't go back, it won't have me back, I'm still broke."

"But what about Tinkerbell?" Alix asked, aghast.

"What about her?" He asked, bemused.

"Don't tell me she's supposed to look like that!" Alix exclaimed, pointing at the fairy, "Peter, can't you see? She's dying! She's not supposed to be here, it's killing her. If you don't go back, she's going to die!"

"I suppose she's loosing her glow a bit…" He admitted, looking at Tinkerbell properly for what seemed like the first time ever.

"A bit? Peter, I've only seen her over these last few weeks and I can see how much she's loosing her glow. You cannot be that blind."

"Tink…?" He asked, uncertain. The little fairy tried to look brave, but her glow was diminishing, and her face was shrunken and unhealthy.

"Go Peter, go, now. Neverland is your home, your soul; it will let you back if you need it to." Alix assured him. Peter walked towards her open window and stood by it for a minute. Then he turned to look at her, and his light blue eyes were alive.

"You're right, it will." He agreed, "Alix…come with me."

III

She couldn't. Her family, her education, her friends, her _life_.

Peter Pan, the boy of fairytales, stood in front of her.

She'd be throwing it all away, all of it.

Tinkerbell, a real live fairy, stood on his shoulder.

Everything she'd ever worked so hard for…

Neverland waited…

She couldn't.

But how could she not?

III

She smiled, and his face lit up.

"Just think happy thoughts." He whispered as Tinkerbell whizzed around her head, sprinkling Pixie Dust.

_I'm going to fly away with Peter Pan._

Her feet lifted off the ground, and laughter bubbled out of her. She watched him zoom out of her window, and was about to follow him when she saw the open box sitting on her bed. She reached back and grabbed it, and then…

She stepped out of the window…

…and into eternity.

III

A.N.: Not finished, not finished at all! There is more to come, when Wendy and Peter get reunited!

Thanks to:

Prieto: Not too long now! And Peter could never be happy with Alix.

YokoYuyGal: I understand, lusting after Peter Pan so much, yet loving Wendy too. And thank you!

Tidus' girl Candy: Don't worry kiddo, Happy ending just around the corner.

Kittybro: Well, here's an update.

Cherry2hil: Thank You Muchly!

Zeldy: Well, Alix might have a bit of a crush on him, but she knows that he'll never be hers.

Miki123: Sorry I'm so slow updating!

Zorrina: Well, now you know!

Mike: Yay, I love your reviews, so encouraging! Sorry I take so long to update, I'm lazy.

SilveryStars: I'm not sure if I got Peter right this chapter, it was a bit rushed.

Kasmira36: Nope, no time machine, although you might start to work it out now.

Horsefly: I used to love Quantum Leap! But I have an idea of how to resolve this.

Leli1013: The fun ness of suspense 

Girl with the Evil Computer: It was actually your post that inspired me to write another chapter. So here it is!


	8. Neverland

Disclaimer: Not mine!

A.N.-Ok, kiddos. This is a Peter/Wendy fic! No more questions about it being Peter/Wendy, because it will be! I'm not gonna change my mind! Please keep reviewing though!

III

Neverland

III

There was nothing like it in the world. It was like living and dieing and dreaming and waking up all in one.

"Not too bad!" Came a voice from in front of her, and Alix could just make out Peter's form in the darkness.

"It's amazing!" She called out, flying towards him, "It's just…amazing!"

He slowed down until they were level, and she could see him beaming. Next to him flew Tinkerbell, whose glow was increasing as they flew further up.

"You're not doing too badly." He told her, "Most people don't get the hang of it straight away."

"But I've flown before." She told him, a mischievous grin on her round face.

"When?" He asked, shocked.

"Every night, in my dreams, since I read the story of Peter Pan when I was five!" She laughed, and Peter laughed too. It felt so good to be in the sky again, and to be able to share it with another, even if she wasn't…

No, that wasn't fair. He couldn't compare Alix to Wendy, they were two different people.

"Come on!" He called, grabbing her hand, "Second to the right…"

"…and straight on till morning!" Alix finished, and they grinned.

III

The fairies chattered so loudly that the six lost boys asleep in the underground home had no choice but to wake up. Sparks swatted one out of the way angrily, but it just turned around and bit him, grinning mischievously.

"Be quiet you little bugs!" Rocky shouted.

"They're excited about something." Locks, who considered himself an expert in fairies, informed them, "More excited than they've been for a long time."

"What's so exciting?" Blink asked.

"No sure." Locks admitted, blushing.

Crash and Tuner, who had managed to stay asleep up until this point, sat up groggily, blinking at the fairies that zoomed around their home.

Suddenly they were joined by the last of their ranks. Fish liked to sleep by the lake, where the mermaids whispered secrets to him while he slept. He said he remembered all the secrets, but refused to tell any of the other lost boys any of them, so they didn't believe them. But today he was rushing to tell them a wonderful secret.

"Morning Fish!" Rocky shouted, "The little bugs have gone insane."

"As they should!" Fish crowed "Haven't you looked outside? Neverland is alive again!"

"Neverland is always alive." Locks pointed out.

"No, it's _really_ alive now!" Fish insisted, "The mermaids are singing! The Indians are dancing, but they don't know why!"

"Fish…" Blink said slowly, "The mermaids haven't sung since…"

"I know." Fish grinned.

"But that mean's…" Crash mumbled, but Sparks cut him off.

"Peter's back!"

III

There feet touched the ground gently, and Alix stumbled slightly, as gravity took affect. But Peter was still holding her hand, and didn't let her fall.

"I'm home." He whispered, looking around, "And look, Neverland let me back!"

"I told you it would." Alix said, slightly smugly.

"Oh, I knew it would." Peter said lightly, and she frowned at him, "Well, in the back of my mind anyway."

"Sure you did." She muttered, and he laughed.

"Isn't this just the most beautiful place you've ever seen?" Peter asked, looking around the lush forest, "Oh, how I've missed it."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Alix agreed. Tinkerbell was chattering wildly, a huge smile on her tiny face and she buzzed around their heads.

"Can you hear that?" He asked, frowning and looking around, "Sounds like…"

Alix, who could hear nothing, tensed, but Peter just smiled, his frown vanishing.

"Sounds like footsteps." And suddenly she could hear it, and feel it. The ground shook, and the roaring sound of hundreds of running feet filled the air.

"The Indians have arrived!" Peter crowed, and the clearing was suddenly filled with bodies, so quickly that Alix yelped in surprise. Peter grabbed her hand, and they shot up into the trees, just above the masses.

"The Pan!" The hundred or so voices roared as one, "The Pan has returned!"

"Indeed I have!" Peter beamed down at them, "Are you ready to serve me once again?"

The 'Indians' bellowed their pledges, and Peter, grinning, turned to Alix.

"The Indians have served me since I saved their princess, you know that?" He asked.

"I read it in the book, yes." Alix replied, "But I didn't know that there where so many of them!"

"Any less and they would never have been a challenge when we fought." Peter explained, and Alix sighed at his conceitedness.

III

The Lost Boys didn't have to work hard to find Peter. They heard the sounds of the Indians cries far off, and followed that, and the chattering fairies that were swarming Neverland. They burst into the clearing, and looked around frantically.

The hundred or so Indians were dancing and hollering, and a young boy would have been impossible to spot amongst them. But they knew better, and looked up to the trees.

Peter stood there, in strange clothes, and a general strange look to him. He was older, if it was possible, and he looked less…innocent too. And next to him was a…well…lady. A young lady indeed, but older than them, and something deep within their minds said _mother_.

"Peter!" Sparks shouted above the noise "Peter! It is us! The Lost Boys!"

Whether Peter actually heard Sparks's cries, or whether he just looked over at the right time, could never be said, but the result either way was the same. The boy crowed in delight, and, pulling the lady by the hand, flew over.

"Boys!" He shouted gleefully, "I, Peter Pan, have returned."

"Hooray for Peter!" They chorused, and the lady burst out laughing.

"They're adorable!" She exclaimed, "Look at them, they're all so little! So sweet!"

"We're not sweet!" Fish insisted, feeling that 'sweet' was a bit too girly, "We're slimy!"

"And sickly!" Rocky chimed in, just for fun. Soon all the boys were insisting how horrible they were, and Alix was having to hold herself up from her laughter. Peter frowned slightly at this. Wendy would never have tolerated the Lost Boys speaking like that. She kept them in line. Alix just seemed to find them funny, and encouraged the bad behaviour. _He_ was supposed to encourage the bad behaviour.

"Really Alix, that's no way for a Mother to act." He scolded, and Alix suddenly stopped laughing.

"I'm not their mum!" She cried, pointing and the boys.

"Please lady!" Blink said pitifully, "Please be our mother."

"Is that why you brought me here Peter, to mother these kids?" Alix asked, and Peter noted something dangerous in her voice.

"Well…yes." He said carefully.

"I expect you'll want me to put them to bed and read them stories." She said coldly.

"That is what Mother's do."

"And do the Spring Cleaning? Darn socks? Cook dinner? Stay at home while you have adventures?" She snapped, and Peter suddenly realised he'd got it horribly wrong.

"Well Wendy always used to…" He began, but that did not go down well.

"I am not Wendy!" She snarled, "I'm sick of it, ok? For the last few weeks I've just had to pretend I don't mind when I see you looking at me and wishing it was her! Well, I do mind. I can't be your Wendy!"

"Who's Wendy?" Locks whispered to Fish, who shrugged.

"I don't want you to be her." Peter declared stubbornly, "I want the real Wendy here, but I can't have her."

"That's bloody well it." Alix snapped, "You, Peter Pan, are an ungrateful, chauvinistic, brat of a boy. Do your own Spring Cleaning."

She summoned the memory of the day she got her GCSE results and with that happy thought, rose into the air and flew away.

"I'll do my own Spring Cleaning." Peter mumbled, watching her fly off, "I can clean just as good as anyone… Oh hell…Tink, go make sure she's ok, please?"

Tinkerbell nodded and zoomed off after the girl, and Peter turned back to the Lost Boys and the Indians.

"Well?" He asked, "Isn't this a celebration?"

III

It took Alix hardly any time at all to realise she was lost. Sighing in frustration she landed on a patch of clear ground that overlooked a lagoon. She sat down on the ground and buried her face in her hands, wishing she hadn't got so angry so quickly. It wasn't really in her nature anyway; she was normally slow to anger, and quick to forgive. But it was so infuriating! Peter Pan had taken her to a land of magic and fairies so she'd clean some little boy's socks? Read them to bed at night? That was not what Neverland was about. It was supposed to be about staying young and innocent forever.

Wendy had lost her innocence here. She had lost it to him, to Peter.

She was dimly aware of the darkening sky, but paid it no heed. Instead she sat in silence, thinking venomous thoughts towards Peter.

_Corrupter of her innocence._

_Vile boy._

_Conceited._

_Dangerous._

_Fool of a child._

She didn't notice the music at first, the eerie singing. She turned around, frowning as though trying to remember something. It was then that she saw the heads bobbing above the water, it was then she noticed the singing.

_Don't go to the lagoon at night._ The words floated in her mind, just out of reach of her understanding, _To hear their song is to be lost._

One of the heads had reached the bank of the lagoon. A bluish grey face looked up at her, its long red hair slicked back with water, and its eyes pools of darkness. A webbed hand emerged from the water, the same bluish grey colour, and reached towards her. Without knowing why, Alix reached her own hand out, and felt the creature take a firm hold of it.

She vaguely noticed a whirring sound.

An arrow embedded itself into the ground, right next to where Alix and the creatures hands where linked. It hissed, looking around wildly, and dived back into the water. A mistiness that seemed to have settled over her mind lifted, and it suddenly dawned on Alix how much danger she had been in.

"Oh God!" She gasped, withdrawing her hand backwards, her eyes darting between the still rippling water and the still shuddering arrow.

"Nasty creatures." A voice came from behind her. Alix whipped around and saw a young girl, a few years younger than her, with a bow resting in her hand. She was Native American, her eyes were so dark that they looked black in the moonlight, and her hair was arranged in two plaits that fell over each shoulder. Her chin was tilted slightly upwards, but whether in arrogance or just pride, Alix could not tell. But she did not need to guess who this was.

"Tiger Lily." She gasped.

"_Princess_ Tiger Lily." The girl corrected, a slight sneer on her face.

"I'm sorry." Alix said quickly, "Was that a-"

"A Mermaid? Yes. Cheap enchantresses, they'll snatch anything foolish enough to sit by their banks after dark."

"I didn't know."

"Now you do." Princess Tiger Lily looked her over, and nodded slightly, "So you are the new mother?"

"No, I'm no one's mother." Alix snapped defiantly, and a look of what might have been respect flashed across the younger girl's face.

"So you do have a spine?" She noted, "The last one did too, _Wendy_. Not always. Mostly she just did what Pan said, but occasionally she would tell him off. I never could."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'the last one'?" Alix asked, confused.

"Oh, there were others before her of course." Tiger Lily told her, "A few girls. They never lasted long, they didn't interest him enough, and he'd take them home and forget about them straight away. Wendy was the only one he didn't want to leave, the only one he asked to return."

"I shouldn't have come." Alix muttered.

"Indeed not." The Princess agreed, "You are too old, you're life as an adult has already started. Neverland will never be your home, you'll always wear it like a piece of clothing slightly too small."

"What about Peter?" The older girl asked.

"He is still more child than you, and if the clothes no longer fit then he just won't notice." Tiger Lily looked out at her from under think lashes, "You are angry with him because he wishes you to be nothing more than a mother. But what else can you be to a child?"

"Sister…" Alix said weakly, but Tiger Lily just laughed.

"You would be no happier as his sister then his mother!" She shook her head, "The boy you want does not exist Woman Child, stop seeking him, it will just cause you both pain. For now, and only now, he has space in his heart for a friend. Approach him as one, as an equal, and maybe you'll find some of the peace you're looking for."

"It would take me a week to come up with that, it took you all of two seconds…how do you know these things?" Alix asked, looking out over the water.

"I've made my life watching him, knowing him." She Heard Tiger Lily say, "If you'd known him for all the years I've known him, and met any of the girls he brought before Wendy, you'd know this all too."

"So I'm no more than those first girls, the ones he took back." Tiger Lily didn't answer, and when Alix looked back to where the girl had been standing she saw that the Princess was gone.

III

Tinkerbell had found Alix speaking to Princess Tiger Lily, and had waited for the other girl to leave before revealing herself to Alix. Then the fairy had led Alix back to Peter and the Lost Boy's lair, and shown her the entrance.

"Thanks Tink." Alix whispered, and went inside.

The boys were dancing around the little burrow inside, and Alix couldn't hear anything above their hollering. Peter was sat on what looked like a throne. His clothes were already almost ripped to shreds by whatever he had been doing while she had been by the lagoon.

"Tinkerbell found you then." He said calmly when she had made her way past the dancing boys.

"Tiger Lily found me first." Alix corrected.

"The Princess?" Peter looked quite pleased, "What did she say about me."

"How do you know we talked about you?" She asked, frowning at him.

"What else would you talk about?"

"We also talked about me, thank you very much." Alix snapped, but tried to calm herself down.

"So you did talk about me." Peter grinned mischievously, "Oh go on, what did she say about me?"

"That you're a little kid." Alix laughed at the expression on his face "We weren't gossiping about how great you are Peter."

"Well that's not nice!" Peter cried, looking offended, and Alix laughed even harder. The boys, who had finished dancing, finally noticed her return, and crowded around her, begging forgiveness for what had happened before, and asking her, once again, to be their mother.

"Sorry kids but no." Alix said firmly, "I'm no ones mum. I could be a…big sister or something? Or a cousin, or a…friend."

"What's a sister?" Fish asked, excited.

"Um, well…you're all brothers, right?"

"Yes, that's right!" Said Rocky

"What's a brother?" Blink asked.

"Oh for God's sa… Ok, you all have the same mother, right?" Alix asked.

"Yes, you!" Cried Locks.

"No, no, no." She shook her head, "I'm not your mother. But you all have the same mother. And that's what makes you brothers. And a sister is a girl who has the same mother as you."

"So you're mother….is our mother?" Sparks asked, and Alix almost cheered.

"Yes! Yes, that's just right, that's perfect." She grinned, "I'm your sister."

"Well, will you tell us stories anyway sister?" Fish asked, looking at her pleadingly.

"Um…" Alix thought desperately of the many stories she made up, and realised that none of them we're quite appropriate, "Er…I have a better idea! Peter will tell you a story."

"I will?" Asked Peter

"He will!" Cheered the Lost Boys.

"Alix, no!" He pleaded, "Girls tell stories!"

"Come on Peter, you went to school, you know about the suffragette's movement, equal rites for all." Alix scorned.

"Stupid women, making men do all the hard work." Peter muttered, "And they were nasty about it too."

"Who were the suffragettes, Peter?" Rocky asked.

"Blood thirsty women!" Peter declared, "Their task was to enslave boys, and make them their workers! They chucked things at the men who walked through the streets, ambushed them!"

"Oh, let's play Suffragettes and men!" Tuner cried out.

"I want to be a Suffragette!" Crash joined in, and the other boys chorused their agreement. Alix was laughing hysterically at the idea of these little boys wanting to be grown women, and Peter once again frowned.

"I'm sure big sisters are supposed to enforce discipline." He told her.

"Only when their parents pay them to do it." She told him, but decided to be helpful, "Ok kiddies, you can play in the morning. For now you listen to Peter's warped chauvinistic version of the women's rightful revolution, then it's to dream land, where you'll get the wrong end of the stick completely, and dream of raving lunatic women."

There was a moment of silence, bafflement on all their faces, even Peter's and she sighed.

"Peter's story, then bed." She simplified, and they all grinned and nodded.

After Peter had finished, and all the Lost Boys where away in their dens, and Fish had left for the lagoon, Alix sat down next to Peter's thrown, and he joined her on the floor.

"I'm sorry I got angry earlier." She told him, "It's just…frustrating. You're hard to deal with."

"Susan, the woman I lived with, said the same." He grinned, the frowned, "Or used to anyway."

"You didn't tell them you were leaving, did you?" Alix asked.

"No, but I don't suppose they'll miss me." He told her truthfully, "Children came in and out of the home all the time, they were never missed, not for long anyway."

"I thought you had some close friends there."

"Shem, sometimes Finn when he wasn't being a pain." Peter admitted, "And Jolie, she was really nice, except she was always with this girl called Karla, who scared me. Apart from that there was only Nathan, who sometimes visited, and this cute little girl called Abbey, but some people where coming to be her parents anyway, and I don't think they would have let me see her. Shem won't miss me too much, and Jolie never misses anyone."

"You're not just anyone though." Alix reminded him, "You're Peter Pan, you make more of an impact on people's lives then anyone."

"As far as they know I came from nowhere." He told her, "I never told them where I came from. They'll just think I've gone back to nowhere."

"When I go back, they'll ask me questions. I mean, they knew we were friends, and we disappeared on the same day, so when I go back they'll ask questions."

"Go back?" He asked, puzzled.

"I'm not staying forever." Alix said sharply, "Not even long."

"Why not?" He asked. There was no shock, or anger, or hurt in his face, just genuine confusion as to why she would ever want to leave Neverland.

"Because I want to leave before you become bored with me." She told him, standing up, "Goodnight Peter."

He stayed up; even after he could hear that Alix was asleep, staring into the darkness.

III

Zeldy-Don't worry dude, Peter and Alix WILL NOT BE TOGETHER. They are friends. I probably shouldn't give away so much of my plot, but…

Kasmira36-I'm really confused about the YOUR-ness… But yeah, no worries

Krissy-Alix will deal

Zorrina-Ah, the funness of Neverland 

Prieto-As if I'd give away that much! Hehe, you'll just have to wait.

Mike-Good long reviews! That's what I love to see! I still have a lot more I'm gonna write, but it's all gonna be in only a few more chapters. Then it'll be finished! Woo! And some of the stuff you wrote about I have planned.

Angela-I'd hold a grudge against me too! Peter and Wendy forever, agreed.

Miki123-Awww, that was so sweet! Thanks! Yeah, no time machines! They are not needed! I have a cunning plan!


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